


Faded Photos

by Sherlyjohn



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Death, Depression, Hurt!Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Limp!Steve, Loss, M/M, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Sex, Smut, Torture, Violence, mcu - Freeform, movie!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlyjohn/pseuds/Sherlyjohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Sam head out to find Bucky, and Steve is afraid of what he will find. When things do not go as planned, Steve is forced to improvise and he risks everything to help Bucky.<br/>He will need help putting the pieces back together again.<br/>Bucky/Steve (Post Winter Solider, post Avengers, mentions of ideas/characters from Age of Ultron but before the actual movie.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> See the end for Chapter Notes: I will add tags as I add Chapters.

Sam was talking again and Steve could see his mouth moving but he didn't hear the words. His gaze was fixed out the open window, watching the Swiss countryside flick by. His thoughts wandered, fixing on a single face, with a curtain of black hair concealing blue eyes. The look on Bucky’s face when he saw him, the blank eyes, the hatred in his gaze…  
“Steve? Steve, you hear me?”  
Steve’s head snapped back to Sam’s face, who raised his eyebrows at him.  
“Hum?”  
“Did you just hear anything I said? Or am I talking to a wall?”  
“Wha oh , I’m sorry.”  
Sam sighed and shook his head, “Stop worrying so much. We’ll find him.”  
Steve nodded distractedly and continued his scrutiny of the window.  
“We’ll knock some since into him. Find some sort of Hydra powered anti-serum that will make him remember. We’ll get him back.”  
Steve nodded. 

They sat in silence, as the train took them further and further south, the window becoming covered in icy sleet as they went.  
“How far out are we?” Sam asked after a while.  
“About two more hours.” Steve said, massaging his forehead, which was pounding like a hammer hitting an anvil.  
“From Black Widow’s Intel? How does she know?”  
Steve glanced nervously around, “call her Natasha when were here, and both her and Hill found a Hydra base, they interrogated of some of the workers.”  
“Found a Hydra base? Doesn’t that seem pretty convenient? Some secret Hydra agent knows about every base?”  
“Natasha is very persuasive.”  
Sam whistled low and grinned, “I bet she is. I have heard stories.”  
“So tell me,” Sam said through Steve’s silence, “you thought this Barns guy was dead?”  
“He fell out of a plane.” Steve said flatly, almost feeling Bucky’s the space between his hand and Bucky’s, the one short grasp of the arm that would have saved him. He shook the memory to the back of his mind where he kept the rest from the war.  
“But he survived?”  
“Apparently.” Steve closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face.  
“You should sleep, man, you look like you were just shot or something.” Sam mused.  
“You don’t look so great yourself.” Steve jibbed.  
Sam waved it away, “I’m fine. I slept like a baby. That plane ride was pretty long.”  
They lapsed into silence once more,  
“Come on Steve, you look like hell, man. Even you need some more time to heal.”  
Sam had a point. His eyes itched with tiredness and he could feel the ache of his muscles where he had been smacked and beaten only three days prior. He closed his eyes and lapsed into an uneasy sleep- his dreams filled with dark shape and the outline of a man with a dark red skull.

-*-*-*-

Sam and Steve hoped off the train, heaving their heavy packs behind them. Hill had got them a private coach and they were able to leave the station relatively unseen. Steve’s bag was heavier and an awkward shape due to his shield. He wore jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt. The clothes felt oddly uncomfortable. Somehow, he thought, if he were wearing his uniform he could get to Bucky faster.  
They passed by a large food court and Sam gave a low moan of longing. They stopped and Sam squinted at the menu.  
“I wish I knew what any of these things were. I know about a much German as an American in the south of Georgia.”  
“It’s Swiss-German.” Steve noted, trying his best to read the menu, “That ones’ a salad, and those are sandwiches- ham and cheese I think.”  
Sam looked at him incredulously.  
“You spend enough time hearing Nazi Germans yelling curses at you and trying to kill you, you get to know a lot of German.”  
“And they were trying to kill you with ham and cheese sandwiches were they?”  
Steve rolled his eyes, his lips pulling into his first real smile in days.  
A grin spread onto Sam’s face as he chuckled, “Want to order for me.”  
“God no.” Steve replied, “Go on ahead.” He pushed Sam forward and was left so scowl at Steve and struggle his way through the pronunciation. Once he had ordered he turned back to Steve,  
“You want anything?”  
Steve shook his head, the thought of food churning his stomach uncomfortably. “More for me then.” Sam grinned as the woman handed him his sandwich, and he traded it for a couple Swiss-Franks.  
“Okay, where to?”  
“Maria is sending the coordinates once we reach the checkpoint.”  
They walked out of the station and into a cool blast of air. The surroundings were buildings, coupled with farmland.  
“I thought Maria couldn’t access any of the S.H.I.E.L.D protocols and whatnot now that’s everything’s gone to shit.”  
“She can’t, but Stark can. She’s working there now and I bet Tony could get her the info she needed.”  
“Well he may be a pain in the ass, but Stark is good.”  
Steve nodded.  
“We have a ways to go.” He added, “We need to rent a car. We’re still about two hours from the base of the Alps.”  
“It seems like you’ve been here before.” Sam raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Yeah. It looks a lot different from my day though, this train was still running but none of this was here.”  
“You fought over here? I thought Switzerland was a neutral or something.”  
“I wasn’t here long, just grabbed the plane that froze me for 70 years.”  
“What, at this base? It’s where you took on Red Skull?”  
Steve quirked an eyebrow at him.  
“What? I read the comics.”  
Steve chuckled and continued, “I thought all of that was destroyed when my group went through here, but I guess they remade.”  
“Good times.” Sam mused.  
They were able to get a car and Steve drove first. The snow was thickening on the windshield and the wipers flicked across the glass, leaving streak marks.  
Sam drifted off to sleep and Steve was left alone with his thoughts, trying to push back the memories of Bucky’s face, contorted with rage as he pulled the trigger on Steve. Steve felt every bruise where Bucky had struck him, even though they had healed hours ago. He felt Bucky hit him, over and over again, and the pounding in Steve’s head became more pronounced.  
His cell phone buzzed impatiently in his pocket and Steve picked it up.  
“Hello?”  
“Steve.”  
“Maria? Do you have any more Intel on this place? We’re about an hour out still.”  
“I don’t have much on this place besides the location. He didn’t say how guarded it was or what they’re doing there. But you’ve been here before, so you probably know the territory well enough.”  
“Yeah I do.”  
“Cap there is a lot going on here. I was able to hold an interrogation at Stark Tower. Everything at S.H.I.E.L.D is in ruins. I already talked to Coulson and he says that Agent Hand is dead. He-“  
She stopped talking abruptly and Steve felt a curious sensation in the pit of his stomach, like something was trying to crawl out of it.  
“Coulson?”  
“Did I say Coulson? I didn’t mean Coulson. I guess I’m just not used to him being gone… you know. Force of habit.”  
Steve heard her holding her breath on the other line.  
He shook his head, “Coulson is dead.”  
“No. He’s not.” Maria sighed, “I’m sorry Steve. Fury told me not to tell you. But, well now it’s better that you know. There are so few S.H.I.E.L.D agents left, it’s best I come out with it.”  
Steve felt his heart skip a beat and he swerved the steering wheel a bit in his shock. He felt his throat tightening and his breath was coming up short. He let out a long and soft breath, and said in a whisper, “why didn’t Fury clue me into the fact that one of our own wasn’t dead?”  
Maria let out an audible sigh on the other end and after a long pause she said, “none of the Avengers know. He thought it would motivate you… to help bond the team in a rateable cause.”  
Steve made a noise of protest but the agent cut him off, “it wasn’t my choice! You know how Fury thinks, he cares about the mission before anything else.”  
Steve sighed and exhaled loudly.  
“And Steve, you can not tell anyone else. None of the other Avengers can know.”  
“Well I wasn’t expecting another person who I thought was dead to come back to life. First Bucky, then Fury, and now Agent Coulson. Is this becoming a pattern?”  
Maria made a noise between a laugh and a moan. “I’m really sorry Steve.”  
“It’s fine.” Steve said briskly, “Thanks for the Intel.” And Steve hung up the phone before she could respond.

They pulled over after Sam woke, demanding to drive.  
“How much further?” Sam asked as he got into the drivers seat.  
“Not far.”  
“Well, why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll drive.”  
“No, were close and I need to tell you when to stop.”  
Sam opened his mouth to protest but Steve said, “I’m fine, Sam.”  
They drove off again.  
“You okay?” Sam said, glancing at him again.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just talked to Agent Hill.”  
“Did she give you any more information about this place?”  
“Not really. But I know the base is built into the side of the mountain, but we can attack it from the front.”  
“It’s going to be a long climb up the mountain.” Sam commented, the base of the Alps coming into sight.  
Steve glanced at him, “Unless you forgot your wings, there Falcon, I’m pretty sure we’ll be fine.”  
“Oh yeah!”  
Steve snorted and fixed his eyes out of the window again. 

The snow fell and Sam drove as they ascended the base of the mountain, circling around the road until the thicket of trees blocked their path. Sam turned off the car and hopped out. Steve followed suit, grabbing his pack. Steve pulled his light jacket closer to himself, trying to contain his body heat.  
“You should have packed warmer.” Sam commented, strapping his pack to him, “Cause it’s gonna get windy.”  
With a loud fizzing electric sound his wings unfolded and he lifted Steve unceremoniously into the air.  
Steve felt the biting cold on his face and hands as they climbed higher, his lungs constricting. He watched through squinted eyes at the trees and snow below them.  
“Keep your eyes peeled for any signs of the base!” Steve yelled over the roaring wind.  
“You got it.” Sam hollered back.  
They glided over the snow caped mountains for another ten minutes, until Steve’s hands and face were stinging with cold and his arms had fallen asleep.  
“There!” Steve yelled, pointing toward a dark outlined mass to his left. The building looked minuscule from their position in the air but grew larger the lower they went.  
“Drop me, then circle back to check the perimeter. See if you can spot any guards outside.”  
“Good thing. You were getting heavy.” Sam shouted.  
Steve pulled his shield from his back and braced himself for the fall. Sam dropped him, and the cold air whipping around him. He landed on his shield, cushioning the blow, but knocking the air momentarily of out his lungs.  
He stood and looked around. He could see the base some distance away, towering over the tops of the snow-covered trees. He felt a rush as he recalled the last time he was here, riding his motorbike through the trees. He shook the memory and ran toward the base, his feet treading lightly on the snow and making prints in the untarnished powder. 

As he approached he saw the base was split into three sections, with long concrete bridges connecting them. Guard towers stood at every top, overlooking the entirety of the land. The base no longer had army trucks and crates stacked in front from Steve’s last visit, however.  
Steve darted forward, shield drawn. A bullet clanged against his shield, followed by a volley, the pings and dings bouncing off his shield. Pushing forward, he darted behind the nearest tree as bullets whizzed past him. He breathed deeply and shot his head around the tree.  
He spotted the guard towers and guessed where the shots had gone off. He glanced around to the side and found a passage around the side of the base, which had no guard posts. He lifted his shield and sprinted toward the farthest end of the base, but no more bullets came showering down on him. He reached the far corner without further incident and looked for a way to climb. There were no handholds and the walls must have been more than 100 feet tall.  
“Need a lift?”  
Steve looked up to see Sam flying directly above him, a grin on his face. A smile twitched onto Steve’s face as well, “Took you long enough.”  
“You’d be stuck down here if it weren’t for me.”  
Steve grabbed onto Sam’s arm and was lifted into the air. Sam dropped him into one of the guard towers and Steve saw the posted guard knocked out. He pushed his unconscious form out of the way and glanced at the control panel. He flipped the alarm off and the warning lights stopped flashing.  
“So much for going in on stealth.” Steve muttered.  
The door opened behind him and he ducked behind his shield in time to feel the ping of the bullets bouncing off it.  
“It’s him!” A guard yelled, “Go tell the commander.”  
He threw his shield and saw the group of guards fall from the force. Steve ran forward, kicking the last guard in the stomach as he picked up his shield.  
A whooshing told him that Sam had joined the fight.  
“We really need some sort of com system, like you and the Avengers have.” Sam said, “I really can’t keep saving your ass.”  
Sam turned in time to knock out the guard before he could shoot Steve.  
“Thanks.” Steve ran forward making his way into the maze of hallways below the tower. Guard’s footfalls pounded around the corner and Steve threw his shield to catch all three of them around the stomach. He darted around them and turned another corner. Guards were coming at him from either side and Steve ran towards the first group while Sam took the second. He flung his shield forward, a streak of red, white, and blue as it bounced off the wall and hit the men in the chest, sending them (like dominos) into one another. Steve pulled out his gun just as he caught his shield on the off-bounce.  
A sharp cry made Steve turn and he saw Sam clutching his arm, while using his good arm to shoot. Steve ran to him, squeezing off two shots. The remaining guards crumbled.  
“You okay?”  
“Yeah…” Sam panted, checking his arm. The bullet had gone clean through his bicep. “Lets find some more Hydra ass to kick, I’m feeling railed up now.”  
Steve ripped a piece of his uniform from the arm and tied it around the bullet wound.  
“Come on Steve, I’m fine. Don’t go ruining your new uniform!”  
“It’s fine.” Steve said, he then streaked off, a mere blur of blue and white with Sam on his heals.  
“If my memory serves, I think the control room is this way.”  
Steve and Sam slowed to a walk, but met no more threats along the way. Their footsteps echoed strangely off the walls. The two turned to peek their heads around the corner and Steve felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. The room looked the same it had when he had met Red Skull all of those years ago, minus the glowing and flashing lights from computers. The walls and even the window overlooking the Alps was the same. 

Steve counted as many as fifteen workers. He nodded to Sam who inclined his head. They both leapt inside, guns at the ready. The workers pulled their guns, although most of them looked more like technicians than soldiers. Steve swept his legs under a pair running toward them, knocking them clean off their feet. He knocked them out with the shield. Sam went to look at the controls, pulling out a device from his pocket as he did.  
Steve grappled with two guards at once; one was punching him in the face while the other attempted to shoot. Steve head-butted the first man and turned in time to strike the other man’s gun out of his hand. He swiftly knocked him out with the butt of his shield.  
“Well, that wasn’t so-“  
Steve turned to Sam and froze. A group of ten or so men had them surrounded, guns raised. Sam’s hands were in the air and he glanced over at the captain.  
“Sorry Steve, look’s like we’ve got more company.”  
“Shut up!” A masked guard yelled, tightening his grip on his gun.  
“As you can see, Mr. Rogers, we were expecting you.” Said a voice from the shadows, “That’s why we sent Mr. Barns away. We didn’t want you two reunited so soon after your…” he paused, fishing for the right word, “encounter.”  
Steve watched as a rather short man walked into the light. He had slightly graying hair and a wicked grin curving his mouth.  
“Who are you?”  
“I am Nicolas Cynbel and, more importantly, someone you will not see again. Goodbye Mr. Rogers.”  
Steve had one moment to look confused before he saw a flash of blinding light and felt a searing pain in his abdomen. He looked up to see one of the guards pointing a huge gun at him before he felt himself loose control of his body. He fell to the ground, twitching. It felt like his stomach was on fire, the fire spreading to the rest of his body, as sharp static-electric shocks singed his clothes and skin. He couldn’t see the pain was so white-hot. But he heard someone yelling and calling his name. He was able to make out a blurred line of Sam’s face, and he gritted his teeth as his body was filled with more shocks.  
“L-looks like I ruined my u-uniform…” Steve spluttered, trying to smile and managing more of a grimace.  
There was a crash, coming from underneath them and Steve felt the ground shake violently.  
The computer monitors around them flashed and beeped.  
Sam looked to one of them,  
“He set a self-destruct.” Sam cursed under his breath and Steve was vaguely aware of his body being moved.  
“We’ve gotta get out of here before this whole place blows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and any feedback is greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this Chapter is kind of short, but I will make the next one really long to make up for it! Cheers!

All Steve could feel was a cool wind on his face, tossing his hair about, causing him to wince. He opened his eyes and squinted around. He was staring at a patch of snow, he turned his head and felt his spine give an uncomfortable twinge. He sat up and his head spun.  
“Woah there, Cap. Let’s take it easy.”  
“What happened?” Steve asked, looking at Sam. His face had some gashes and cuts that were still bleeding but otherwise he looked unharmed.  
“You got shocked, and I had to take us out the window. I nearly dropped you and your super-soldierly dead weight. We made it out before the whole place blew though.”  
Steve squinted through the trees and saw smoke colouring the sky a sickly grey. He turned back to Sam, whose worried expression made him sigh.  
“I’m fine.” Steve said, to prove it he stood and flet his spine and abdomen sear like a hot poker.  
“Like hell you are. I don’t know what they hit you with, but they must have enough electronics in there to power a whole city, because you went all twitchy. You looked possessed or something.”  
Steve heaved a sigh and leaned against a nearby tree, letting the cool breeze calm his flayed nerves.  
So Bucky hadn’t been there, he had nearly gotten Sam (and himself) killed for nothing.  
As if reading his mind Sam said, “So, looks like they knew we were coming. Where to next?”  
Steve looked up at him. “I’m not sure, but listen, Sam, you can always back out, I’m not expecting you to-“  
“I’m not backing out, man.” Sam said flatly.  
“But we were both almost killed in there and-“  
“It’s gonna take more than a little bomb to kill me.” Sam snorted.  
“I know but-“  
“We find him together.” Sam eyes were filled with determination and Steve smiled.  
“Alright.”  
It took them a bit to find the car, but when they finally did, Steve made to get in the drivers seat.  
“Oh no you don’t. You were almost deep-fried by some old dude, I think you deserve a little rest.” Sam pushed him away from the door and clambered inside before Steve could protest.  
They got onto the main road.  
Sam asked, “Where do you think Bucky is?”  
“No idea. They could have taken him to a new base. I should call Maria or Natasha and see what they know…”  
“I don’t think we’ll need to.”  
“Why?”  
“Well, before that Cynbel and his trigger-happy friends came in,” Sam pulled a small device from his pocket and flashed him a smile, “I was able to get all of Hydra’s info onto the hard drive. This baby works fast.” He said, beaming at it fondly before pocketing it again.  
Steve lifted his eyebrows in surprise, “Nice work, Wilson.”  
“All in a days work, Cap. Now what do you say we get some food? I could eat a horse.” 

*-*-*-*-

Steve and Sam found a hotel three hours from the base, hoping to maintain as much distance from it as possible.  
Steve could feel the places where his skin had singed healing themselves. They now itched and could feel his whole body tingling. Steve felt too worried to eat much at the Hotel diner and he only picked at his salad while Sam ate his way though a plate of steaming alfredo noodles and two martini’s.  
“Come on Steve, I know you can do better than that.” Sam said, looking critically at his barely touched salad, “I’ve read your file. They say you eat about two times as much as a regular person.”  
Steve shrugged, “I’m not hungry.”  
“Like hell you aren’t.” Sam retorted, pushing his measly salad closer to him.  
Steve glanced at his friend’s half-exasperated, half-worried face and found he was too tired to argue. He shrugged again and polished off his salad within minutes. His stomach grumbled appreciatively and it was then that Steve realized just how hungry he was, having not eaten much since the hospital.  
“You should get one of these.” Sam tilted his martini glass at Steve, sloshing the liquid around a bit.  
“It’s not so much fun when you can’t get drunk.”  
“You can’t?” Sam’s jaw dropped and then he shook his head sadly, “That’s the worst news I’ve heard all week.”  
Steve’s lip twitched, “It makes it easier to win a drinking contest though.”  
They made it to their hotel room, Sam swaying slightly and Steve bone-tired. They collapsed onto their respectable beds and before either of them could even change out of their clothes, they were fast asleep.  
Steve dreamt of a dark face, swimming in and out of focus, long hair concealing his eyes. Bucky’s voice could be heard from the shadows, whispering his name.  
‘Steve. Steve. Help me. I need you, Steve. Come and save me. Steve…’  
“Steve!”  
Steve awoke with a start and sat bolt upright. Sam threw one of his boots at him, “Natasha called. She was able to de-code the data I sent her from the flash drive.”  
“Really?” Steve asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, “When did you send her that?”  
“When you were konked out, I’ve been up since five.”  
Steve checked his watch and gave a small start; it was half past nine.  
“I thought you were going to sleep the day away, grandpa.”  
“What did Natasha find?”  
“Another base where they could be keeping Bucky. They use it as a sort of safeguard type thing they don’t use very often.  
“Where?”  
“Romania.”  
“Oh.”  
“Does this mean another long-ass plane ride?”  
“It means we should get in touch with someone from S.H.I.E.L.D who speaks Romanian.”  
“Oh and you just happen to know someone who does?” Sam asked skeptically.  
“It so happens that I do.”

*-*-*-*-  
The arrow whizzed through the air, knocking the man off his feet without a sound. A smile pulled onto Clint Barton’s face as he pulled back another arrow. He hit his target as easily as one breathes, feeling the bow and arrow as though it was extension of himself. He watched as the French Ambassador keeled over, dead in seconds. A feeling of satisfaction crossed his face for months of planning had finally paid off.  
He leaped off the building and stalked down the street, stowing his bows back in his pack and skirting down a side street, often glancing around behind him just in case anyone was following him. No one was, and Clint knew the mission was complete. He reached his hotel and snuck in through the side, scaling a wall and crawling through the window into his room. The hotel room was about the size of a broom closet but he didn’t take up much space.  
Sinking onto the bed, Clint rubbed his eyes. He stowed his bow and remaining arrows in his bag.  
“Allo?” There was a knock at the door, “Monsieur?”  
Clint stood and walked to the door, straightening his hair and hitching a smile on his face.  
“Salut.” Clint said, opening the door.  
“Bonjour, Monsieur Idel.” The man informed him that he had a call and Clint thanked him and asked him to forward the call to his room.  
“Bonjour?” Clint picked up his phone.  
“Clint?”  
“Non, je ne sais pas qui est Clint.” Clint denied quickly.  
“Clint, it’s me, Natasha.”  
“Tasha? How did you get this number?”  
“Fury.”  
Clint fell silent.  
“Fury?”  
“Yes. He’s alive. Didn’t anyone tell you?”  
“I’ve been undercover for six months!” Clint spat back, feeling anger bubble into his chest, “Maria just called me telling me Fury was dead and that was it.”  
“Well he’s not.” Natasha deadpanned.  
“Great. Well that’s good news, but why are you calling me?”  
“Hydra has taken over S.H.I.E.L.D, taken it down from the inside out.”  
Clint swore, “What?”  
Natasha explained everything about Hydra and it’s involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D How Captain America had at shut down the Helicarriers, and she told him about Red Skull including his encounter with the Winter Solider.  
“You need to come back to Washington, we need as many people as we can to rebuild. Maria has gone to work for Stark and she says they can’t get it going until they weed out the traitors once and for all.”  
Clint snorted, “I bet Hill loves Stark.”  
“She’s really pleased about the whole situation actually.” He could practically hear Natasha’s sly grin on the other end of the line.  
Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’ll come back. I just finished here in Belgium.”  
“Good.” And Natasha ended the call with a snap.  
Clint began packing and was almost out of the building when his phone beeped in his pocket.  
“What?”  
“Clint? It’s Steve.”  
Clint stopped mid-walk and raised his eyebrows, “Hey.”  
“We need your help.”

*-*-*-*-

The plane jet roared as Clint stepped off the private jet. He walked down the ramp to see Steve Rogers and someone else waving him over. Clint approached and reached Steve, clapping him on the back.  
“I heard about what happened in Washington. S.H.I.E.L.D has really taken a hit.”  
Steve nodded and gestured to his friend, “This is Sam Wilson, Sam this is-“  
“Hawkeye!” Sam exclaimed, grinning broadly at him, “Man I’ve heard all about you.”  
Clint smiled a bit and then looked at Steve, “Do you like my ride?” He gestured to the jet behind him and Sam whistled.  
“Tasha let me borrow it, she said she’ll kill me if I break it.  
“I don’t doubt it.” Steve chuckled, “Shall we?”  
They followed him back onto the jet and settled inside.  
“I could get used to this.” Sam murmured, smiling.  
“So, you said you couldn’t talk on the phone? What’s this about? Are you searching for some Hydra rats?”  
“Just one.” Sam commented and earned a glare from Steve.  
“Who?”  
“Bucky Barns.” Steve replied.  
“You mean the Winter Solider?” Clint’s eyes widened.  
“Yeah,” Steve leaned forward to fixed his gaze on Clint, “What do you know about him?”  
“Tasha told me that he was your friend back in the war he died then came back to try and kill you.”  
Steve didn’t respond and they were left in silence for a moment before Sam interjected, “We want to find him so Steve can knock some sense in him.”  
Steve nodded and Clint shrugged, belting himself into his seat.  
“So where do you think he is?”  
“We got Intel that there is a Hydra base in Romania.”  
“And that’s where I come in.” Clint nodded, understanding crossing his face, “I could get a look at the place if we still had S.H.I.E.L.D surveillance, but…”  
“I get it.” Steve nodded, “We’ll have to go in blind, unless you don’t want to come, I will completely understand, this isn’t your fight and-” Steve began but Clint cut him off with wave of his hand.  
“Are you kidding? I actually get a chance to take down a Hydra base? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:  
> {Je ne sait pas} is French for {I don't know}  
> I've never written for Clint before so if is a bit out of character that is why. 
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter, I know it's moving a bit fast but I promise it will get more emotional and involved the further along I go. This is only the beginning!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a million to Arden, who is pretty much my Beta. <3

The Romanian terrain was rougher than Switzerland’s. After Clint was able to clear their plane through Romanian air, he flew in a deserted field and landed it. The noise of the propellers cut through Steve’s thoughts. His pounding headache had returned and his vision was going in and out of focus. Steve shook his head quickly to clear it.

“We all remember the plan, right?” Steve asked the other two as they pulled out their supplies.

“We find the entrance, Steve hangs back while I get myself in there and blend in. Once I’m in I’ll call Sam in for a perimeter check. After we have the perimeter secured, I’ll get to the control room and find a way for Steve to sneak in. Cap will take point once he’s inside and we’ll find the Winter Solider.” Clint recited, handing each of them a comm. device.

“Sounds about right.” Sam nodded, snapping his gun magazine back into place.

Clint shouldered his arrows and gripped his bow tightly.

“And if anything goes wrong-“

“We’ll meet back here and try to get someone from S.H.I.E.L.D on the phone.” Sam cut in, “Nothing will go wrong Steve, stop worrying.”  
He nodded tersely and followed Sam out of the jet. 

A blast of cold air greeted them and Steve, dressed in his full uniform, wished he had a jacket. The tightness of his suit didn’t protect from the biting wind.  
They were about an hour out from the base and the three men trudged along in silence; Clint clutching his bow tightly in his hand and Sam keeping one hand firmly on the butt of his gun. Steve’s thoughts wandered, fixing aimlessly on anything; trying to stay away from dangerous thoughts. But all he could think of was Bucky. Seeing him on that bridge had felt like he was being doused in ice-cold water. Steve shivered at the thought, his senses jarred by the memory.

Bucky… his face, something Steve had often longed for during the war, had looked so hateful. During the war he had sat in the darkness of his tent, gazing at the canopy above him and if he closed his eyes he could feel Bucky near him. His presence was always so constant and to loose that felt like his eyesight was being torn from him. He was left to fumble around in the darkness, desperate for anything that felt like his old friend. 

Well, perhaps old friend wasn’t the word Steve was looking for. Bucky was more than that. Bucky was the one who carried him, sometimes bodily, out of a fight. He had brought him home and cleaned up his wounds, his hands gentle and ever so warm on Steve’s sensitive skin. Steve never flinched away from his touch, because Bucky felt good. Bucky’s breath on his skin, his soft assurances that he would be fine, the way his eyes would turn colder than stone when Steve would come home with his only good shirt covered in blood. Bucky, a complete atheist, prayed to all kinds of Gods to bring Steve back to him during his bout of Scarlet Fever. When his lips had turned purple and his breath had almost left him. 

The thought of him drove Steve mad over and over again. Each time he saw him in his minds eye, all he could remember was the hatred in his eyes when he had yelled at him on the Hellacarrier. 

“You’re my friend.”  
“You’re my mission.”

Those words hung in the air like a chilling cold, filling Steve’s lungs and throat until he couldn’t breathe. There was no avoiding the simple fact that Bucky didn’t remember him. Steve didn’t even recognize the face he saw. It was as though he had looked at an old photo of someone he scarcely knew. Someone who had faded from his life, just as the photograph had.

His friend didn’t remember those nights in Brooklyn when he would patch Steve up and Steve would fall asleep in his arms, out of complete exhaustion Bucky would hold him there all night. Or the evenings when Steve would be dancing with some dame but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Bucky, and Bucky couldn’t help but glance Steve’s way. 

‘But,’ said a tiny voice in the back of his mind, ‘he did pull you out of the water. He saved you and that must mean something. He had stopped himself from bloodying your face, from killing you.’ 

And damn it all, it was the only thing Steve could hold onto. 

They walked on, none of them talking much, only to remark on how far they had gone. The countryside was completely deserted. There were no roads, no houses, not even a telephone line in sight. The terrain became thicker as they walked– going over sloping hills and through thickets of bushes and trees.  
“What do you have for coordinates? Are we close?” Sam asked Clint, wiping sweat from his brow. Although it was a cold day, the walking had made them sweat.  
“We’re close.” Clint responded. 

“I’m surprised we haven’t seen any signs of it yet.” Sam remarked.

“I’m not,” Steve replied, “Hydra cares about security.” 

Clint stopped, glancing at the device in his hand, “It’s says it should be here.”

“Then it must be underground.” Steve commented, instinctively looking at the grass beneath his feet.

“Well damn, we should have brought our shovels.” Sam grinned and Clint snorted.

“I’m sure there’s an entrance around here somewhere.” Steve said, “Spread out. Look for anything that doesn’t quite fit in.”  
They did so, fanning out around the grass. Sam opened his wing pack and shot up into the air. 

“Here!” Sam yelled some ten minutes later and the other two followed him over to a clump of bushes on the outskirt of the field. “It looks like there’s some kind of lever.”

Steve plunged his gloved hand into the thicket of branches and as he touched the lever a booming alarm sounded, just out of sight. Steve recoiled, glancing around. The disembodied alarm filled the empty field, echoing off the surrounding trees.

“You two, get back into the trees. I think I know what’s going on.” Clint told them sharply, pushing them backward. Clint plunged his hand into the brambles once more and yanked on the lever. The alarm stopped abruptly and was replaced by a turret of guns slowing rising from the ground. Clint didn’t flinch but merely strode confidently toward the turret, looking in the direction of a camera perched alongside the gun and saying in clear Romanian, “Anunţa Hydra.” 

The gun turret lowered once more and the ground beneath him began to sink lower and lower until Clint disappeared from view.  
Steve looked over at Sam, the same shock he felt reflected back at him.

“Well… I wasn’t expecting that.” Sam muttered, “Okay Cap, you stay back and wait for Hawkeye’s signal. I’ll do some flying.”  
Steve nodded curtly as Sam took off into the air. 

He paced around the thicket of trees near him, fidgeting with his comm. piece. Time seemed to crawl by; and Steve began to loose track of how long he stood there. He kept pulling his shield from behind his back and checking his gun.  
When he glanced at his watch he saw it had been a half hour since Clint had gone in. He tapped his comm. and said, “Can anyone read me? How are things going in there?”  
Static crackled back at him. Steve frowned. 

“Falcon? Hawkeye? Do you copy?”  
The only sound was static. Steve took out his shield again and was just about to head forward when he heard the telltale whooshing above him. Looking up, he saw Sam land beside him.

“Are the comm’s down?” 

Sam frowned and tapped his own, “Hawkeye, come in.” He was greeted by the same silence. 

“I guess he’s too far underground.” Sam shurgged

“What did you find?”

“Another entrance.”

“Can you take us there?” 

“Sure.”  
Sam lifted Steve into the air with a slight grunt and Steve watched trees flick by below him. Sam turned and circled around until they came to another clearing, with a gaping hole in the middle of it. He dropped them a few yards away from it, into the trees.

“I think Barton opened this for us.” He commented.

Steve peered into the clearing and saw that Sam was right. The grass covering was already lowered to what must have been a 100-foot drop.  
Steve inched into the clearing and as soon as they stepped foot onto the grass, the gun turrets rose and Steve stuck his shield in front of Sam and himself. Gunshots banged against the shield as the two of them neared the edge of the drop. 

“Get ready to jump!” Steve warned Sam over the sound of the relentless bullets.  
Without hesitation Steve jumped into the pit. The sound of Sam’s wings unfolding behind him echoed as they dropped. Steve felt a hand grip the collar of his suit and the tug of the fabric against his throat. Sam made a noise between a grunt and a yell as he slowed down their process to the bottom of the tunnel.  
Once their feet touched concrete ground, Sam let him go and glared daggers at him.

“What the hell were you thinking? You just fell without a shoot. I can’t keep pulling your ass up every time you dive off someplace.”

“I didn’t need a shoot, but thanks for the help.” Steve said, not looking at him.

Sam opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by the sound of running footfalls.  
Three or four men ran around the corner, guns at the ready. Steve moved the two of them behind his shield once more. Sam squeezed off a few calculated shots and the bullets stopped. 

“Lets go.” 

They charged down the corridor that forked off in two directions. 

“Split up. Meet me back here in a half hour." 

Sam nodded briskly and took the right corridor while Steve took the left.  
Steve’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he slowed his pace to a walk. The place was huge. Each hallway had another four sprouting from it. It was like a maze, with twists and turns and no labelled numbers to show where they had come from. Steve kept walking forward until he saw a large room at the end of the hall. He tiptoed toward it; he heard a gunshot and felt a piercing pain in his back. He wheeled around and felt his heart skip a beat. 

Bucky Barns stood a ways down the hall, his face passive and his gun arm extended. Steve ducked behind his shield as the Winter Solider fired another shot.  
“Buck! It’s me! We came here to help you!” Steve yelled from behind he shield, gritting his teeth from the fiery pain shooting up his back. He waited, but no more shots came his was so he slowly lowered his shield. 

“You can’t help me.” Bucky said, his voice a low snarl. 

Steve took a deep breath and the pain in his back spiked. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he slowly set down his shield. He took out his gun from his pocket. Bucky tensed, but Steve merely laid the gun on the ground. He put his hands in the air and straightened to see Bucky looking mildly puzzled. 

“See. I’m not going to fight you. I came here to save you.” Steve said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on his friend.  
Bucky didn’t speak, but took a step forward, his gun still drawn.

“You can shoot me, kill me, but I’m not going to hurt you, Buck. I couldn’t do that to my friend.”

A flicker of recognition crossed Bucky’s face but it was gone so quickly, Steve wondered if he’d seen it at all.

“Please, Buck. You pulled me out of the water… you saved me. I want to return the favour.”  
Bucky shook his head, his gun shifting to point directly at Steve’s temple. 

“There must be some part of you that knows who I am, or you would have filled me with bullets. You must remember something.” Steve’s voice sounded almost pleading. The wound in his back twinged as he took a step forward. 

“Buck. Don’t you remember all of those times we fought together, when we had each other's backs. I went and saved you from the Hydra base! And all those times you saved me from those fights in back alleys. James Buchanan Barns, I have known you for practically my whole life, and I may look different but I’m still that kid from Brooklyn you saved all those years ago. If you don’t remember what we did together, you’ve gotta at least remember me. Come on Buck.”  
Bucky's face was contorted with confusion as he gazed at Steve. “I only know the mission.” He said quietly, as though trying to convince himself. 

“And my mission is to save you. All those years of saving me from bullies, let me save you from the biggest bullies out there.” Steve took another step forward, but Bucky didn’t flinch away. They were now only a foot apart and Steve got a good look at him. His eyes were dead looking and his skin was as pale as a sheet. His metal arm shown brightly against the dull lights of the hallway.

“I don’t… know you.” Bucky breathed, his face pained.

“Yes you do! You are Bucky Barns. A solider, a fighter, and damn it all you’re my best friend.”

“I am not who you think I am. I am the Winter Solider. I am designed for the purpose of the disposal of Captain America.”

Bucky cocked his gun, his face set. If Steve didn’t do something soon he’d be splattered all over the wall. 

“Bucky.” Steve nearly whispered, “You weren’t just my friend… you were– you are one of the only people I care about. Bucky, I–“

Bullets whizzed past them and Steve ducked, rolling backward and scooping up his shield and gun.

“The subject was unable to complete the mission. The subject is now compromised.” Someone said coolly from the end of the hallway, coming out of the large room. Steve stood quickly and instinctively sheltered himself and Bucky as twenty men came toward them, with an older man leading the group.

“You are a hard man to kill, Captain Rogers.”

“Cynbel.” Steve growled, eyes narrowed. 

“You have compromised our asset, Mr. Rogers. I do not appreciate when insects like you infest our nest.” 

“Bucky was never yours to take.” Steve growled, his tone deadly. He was shaking, not from fear- but anger. Bucky stood completely still behind him. 

“Kill him.” Cynbel ordered, looking past Steve to Bucky. Steve froze when he felt the nozzle of a gun pressed to his temple.

“Bucky.” Steve pleaded.

“Do it. What did we teach you about pain? You are a solider; you kill people who could threaten the security of Hydra.” Cynbel growled, taking an advancing step.  
“No. You fought with me, against Hydra. If you come with me, Buck, I promise no one will hurt you again. We get out of here and I will help you.”

“What is the first thing we taught you during our sessions, Solider?”

“Captain America lies.” Bucky responded, his breath hot against Steve’s neck. Steve felt a chill go up his spine that had nothing to do with the bullet wound. 

“Buck, please– you’re not a killer. You’re the most important person in my life.” The gun barrel was starting to sting on Steve’s temple, “and you can kill me but do it for a reason you know, not what they tell you. Bucky, you are a human being. Don’t let them take that away from you.” 

“You are wasting my time.” Cynbel sighed, looking slightly bored with the proceedings, “Kill them.” 

He flicked a nonchalant hand towards his guards. They took the cue and began firing their guns. Steve raised his shield and glanced back at Bucky, who turned his gun on the guards. His movements were fluent but his eyes betrayed him– filled with panic and confusion.

“Lets get out of here.” Steve yelled to him, and they began backing up the way they came. Bucky fired his gun past Steve’s shield and a few men crumbled, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

“You run, I’ll hold them off.” Steve hollered to him. 

Bucky glanced at him, appearing to make up his mind about something. He shook his head, stepping out behind the shield, ignoring the sounds of protest from Steve. He advanced forward, dodging bullets and firing off his own. 

Bucky’s movements were flawless, he moved with such grace. He and Steve fought side by side, and through Steve’s baffled, pain-ridden thoughts he dimly felt a sense of comfort. This was where he was supposed to be, beside Bucky, fighting the good fight. 

Steve huffed out a breath, knocking out two men with his shield and catching it on the off bounce. He plunged into the fray, hitting and knocking over men this way and that. Bucky let out a grunt of pain beside him and Steve looked long enough to see blood spatter from his shoulder. Steve’s eyes narrowed and he drew his gun, shooting into the crowd. Men were advancing from behind them and Steve turned to fight them. Another bullet lodged itself into his leg and Steve grimaced, barely feeling the sting. 

He was fighting five men at once, punching, kicking and shooting as much as he could. Two men punched him squarely in the face simultaneously and Steve stumbled a bit, blood spurting form his nose. He drew his shield just as the first man drew his gun. He aimed it at Steve’s face and then fell forward, a large arrow sticking through his chest. 

Steve looked up to see Clint had entered the fight, rolling around guards and shooting off arrows. Steve took out a few men and saw Cynbel disappearing through a door. Before he could chase after him he saw Bucky, ruthlessly picking men off, his metal arm backing contact with a guards face with a sickening crack. His face was bleeding but his expression almost bored. There were too many men, flooding in. 

“They really don’t know when to quit, do they?” Came Sam’s voice, shooting two men who were trying to fire at Bucky. 

“They never do.” Clint replied, drawing his bow back. 

“Let go!” Steve called over the din, spotting another group of guards turning to corner. Steve jumped over bodies to reach Bucky, who was shooting a guard point-blank, blood spattering his own face as he pulled the trigger. 

“Come on.” Steve said softly to him, a firm hand on his back.

Bucky followed them out, still firing shots off behind him.  
“Cover us.” He told Sam, tossing him his shield. 

He led the group down the corridor, running flat out, while bullets whizzed behind them. The pain in his leg and back thudded dully but he merely ran faster until they were approaching the opening to the forest floor. Steve craned his neck to see the top and squinted. The ground near them rumbled and began to rise up, the gap closing rapidly.

“Take Bucky and go!” Steve yelled, allowing Sam and Bucky to run ahead, Sam threw Steve his shield. They ran flat out, the gap growing smaller and smaller. 

“Here-“ Clint fired off an Assault Grapnel arrow, with long grips on the end and an attached rope. It hooked onto the edge of the rising level.

“Don’t mind me.” Clint said, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist as they were hoisted into the air, making it onto the platform just as the gap slammed closed behind them. 

They rose up, with Bucky and Sam beside them. Sam and Clint had cuts and bruises all over their face and arms. They were breathing heavily, but for the most part they looked unscathed. Bucky’s flesh arm hung limply at his side, masked pain on his face. It was only a testament to how well Steve knew him that he knew he was in pain at all. 

They reached the clearing and were greeted by another flurry of gunfire from the turret. 

“Go!” Steve yelled, shielding them all and sprinting to the opposite end of the clearing. Steve felt a bullet graze his shoulder and pain stabbed through his arm. They ran for a while, waiting until the sound of gunshots had faded replaced only by the sound of rustling leaves through the wind.

“Which way back?” Sam asked suddenly, looking through the thicket of trees. 

“This way.” Clint pointed to his left and they slowed to a walk. 

Steve began to feel the pain spread through his body, first irritating, then like hot fire. He sucked in a breath and halted. He clutched his back and an inordinate amount of blood came up when he drew it away.

“Cap?” Sam asked, walking back to stand beside him and putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“I’m alright.” Steve gasped, the pain spreading through him. He doubled over and saw blurred outlines of Clint and Bucky running back to him before his vision went black. 

He found himself lying on the forest floor when he came to, with the faces of three men above him. 

“Wha-“ Steve felt pain sear up his spine as he sat up. His leg throbbed and he let out a low hiss.

“You were only out for a few minutes.” Sam informed him. 

“We need to get you back to the jet.” Clint said, “You’ve lost a lot of blood. Why didn’t you tell us you’d been shot three times?”  
Steve glanced at Bucky but merely shrugged. 

“Come on…” Sam murmured. 

Steve got shakily to his feet. He could feel his brow sweating profusely and he couldn’t stop his limbs from shaking.  
A cold hand wrapped around his shoulder and he glanced around to see Bucky supporting him with his metal arm. A grim expression crossed his face but he helped Steve walk and they set off once more. 

“Just like old times, eh?” Steve mumbled to Bucky, grinning sloppily. Steve could have sworn he saw the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd... now we have Bucky! 
> 
> A few other notes:  
> `the grapnel hook that Clint uses is the type of hook that can hook onto ledges and had a rope attached to the end of it.  
> `{Anunţa Hydra} means {Hail Hydra} in Romanian 
> 
> ALSO: Sorry about the spacing change, I just think this is loads easier to read, so there you go. 
> 
> I always appreciate your feedback and want to hear what you all think! Thank you!!


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m okay… I’ll heal.” Steve spluttered. 

The jet whirred as they took off. Clint strapped himself in while Bucky and Sam half-walked, half-dragged Steve, laying him on the ground.  
“You can’t heal if we don’t get that bullet out.” Sam growled, his face lined with worry.

Steve didn’t argue but kept his eyes on Bucky, who was panting slightly and glancing around the jet.

“Don’t get blood on the seats!” Clint yelled from the cockpit. Bucky snorted and Steve forced a grin. 

“Its kind of difficult to get a bullet out when you’re flying is so terrible!” Sam hollered back, yanking open a first aid kit. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and nudged Steve to roll onto his stomach.

“Here.” Bucky pulled the tweezers out of Sam’s hands. 

“Are you-“ 

“It’s okay, Sam,” Steve assured him, “Buck has done this a lot. He’s got a steady hand.”

Steve imagined the look of doubt on Sam’s face but was too tired to lift his head. 

Sam handed Bucky a pair of scissors cut through Steve’s uniform. Steve felt the fabric fall away and then felt a searing pain in his back as Bucky poked the tweezers inside.

“Can you find the bullet?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Breathed Bucky. 

“Hurry with that, will ya,” Steve hissed, “It feels like I’m on fire.”

A moment later he felt something being pulled from his skin and he squirmed with discomfort.

“There.” Bucky responded. Steve struggled into a sitting position, his body groaning in protest.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked, looking from The Winter Solider to Steve and back again.

“Yes.” Steve breathed. Sam raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. 

“The bullet didn’t hit his spinal chord.” Bucky replied, shrugging.

Sam looked appalled. “So this is just a normal day for you two, is it?” 

“Pretty much.” Steve replied.

“I don’t know…” Bucky’s voice trailed off, looking puzzled. Steve leaned closer to him, wincing slightly.

“Buck. You okay?” He reached to gently touch Bucky’s injured shoulder but Bucky’s metal arm came out of no where, hitting Steve hard in the face. Steve recoiled, his face burning and he felt his jaw crack. 

“What the-“ Sam began, pulling out his gun. 

Bucky was on his feet, a gun in his hands, pointing it at Steve. 

Steve didn’t move. He merely sat up straighter and looked Bucky in the eyes. 

“Buck-“

“THAT’S NOT MY NAME!” Bucky yelled, his face livid. 

"Why does this man still have a gun?!" Sam hollered to the room at large. 

“What’s going on-?” Clint hollered from the pilots seat. 

“Our friend here is having a bit of an identity crisis.” Sam murmured, his gun still pointed at Bucky. 

“Sam, not now.” Steve cautioned. He looked back at Bucky, his face set.

“I will not fail my mission again.” And he pulled the trigger. 

Nothing happened. 

He pulled it again. The gun clicked but no bullets came out. 

“You think I’d let you carry a loaded gun?” Clint said, flipping the plane to autopilot and walking into the cabin.

Bucky turned to him, swinging a kick in his direction. Clint dodged and aimed a punch at his face, Bucky skirted around and kneed Clint in the stomach.

Steve scrambled to his feet, the pain forgotten as he stepped between them. 

“Stop!” He yelled at Bucky, who retaliated, throwing a punch at Steve. Steve ducked and then put a firm hand on Bucky’s metal wrist, grasping his regular wrist with his other hand.

Bucky fought but Steve didn’t budge. He continued talking the whole time, his words slanted slightly from the pain in his jaw.

“Bucky, please listen to me. You are my best friend. I care about you more than anything in this whole damn world.”

“You don’t swear.” Bucky mumbled, momentarily forgetting his struggle to throw off Steve.

A lopsided grin spread onto Steve’s face. 

“See? You do remember some things.” 

Bucky’s wrists grew slack and a look on confusion crossed his face. He sank into a chair and Steve let go, turning to Clint.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Clint grimaced, massaging his stomach. “I’m gonna keep flying. You keep him under control.” 

Steve nodded apolitically and sank into a chair opposite his friend. Sam stowed his gun and sat in the isle across from them.

“I’ve gotta to say, you two have a weird-ass relationship.” 

Steve glanced at Bucky who didn’t respond. His face was impassive. 

“Buck… can I uh… take a look at your arm?” Steve asked, massaging his possibly fractured jaw.

“I can take care of myself.” Bucky snapped. 

Steve flinched at his tone.

Bucky retrieved the first aid kit and looked at Steve. “Let me finish cleaning you up.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but Bucky glared at him, so Steve closed his mouth. Bucky made him lean forward so he could pack some gauze into his wound. He then set to work cleaning up Steve’s leg wound and patching up his shoulder. Bucky’s touch was surprisingly gentle, and Steve felt himself lean into his warm hand. It had been so long since he had been this close to someone. Bucky’s hand rested on Steve’s leg and Steve looked into those dead eyes.

“We’re gonna get you better, pal, I promise.” Steve said, placing his hand on Bucky’s for a moment.

Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together but he didn’t move. He just sat there, staring at Steve.

“You should change.” Sam said after a long silence, looking from Steve and Bucky. 

Their gaze broke and Steve nodded, standing slowly, pain crossing his face. He grabbed his bag and went to the back of the jet to the bathrooms.

“Clint.” Steve called when he returned, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, pulling on his brown jacket slowly. He could already feel the wound on his back healing, making it itch like crazy.

He passed Bucky and Sam who were silently staring out of opposite windows and headed to the cockpit. He went inside and winced as he sat down.

“Where are we?”

“Flying west, we're just above Caracal now.”

“How much fuel do we have? You think we can make it out of the country?” 

Clint glanced at one of the gauges and nodded, “Easily. Where are we headed?” 

“Anywhere out of the country.” Steve said, gazing out of the window.

“Well Natasha’s in Catania, Italy right now, with Fury.”

“She’s with Fury?” Steve repeated. 

“Yep. And they’re apparently trying to take down a Hydra base. Anyway, I’d like to return her jet. She also wants to see you and give him-“ Clint jerked his head in Bucky’s direction, “a good ass-kicking.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head, “I don’t blame her. Okay. Let’s meet up with her there. Radio her and let her know.”

Clint nodded, and then looked over at Steve, “Why are you doing all of this? I mean, I know he was your buddy back in the war, but he’s gone dark side, man. Do you really think you can change that?”

Steve mulled this question over for a moment, “We weren’t just friends in the war. I grew up with him. He was… there when my mother died, he pulled me out of fights, he stuck with me when I got real sick. He’s… well I’m with him ‘till the end of the line.”

Clint sighed. “Well the flight’s around 2 hours and I’m dead on my feet. I’m going to need some time to get cleaned up and rested. You fly, Rogers?”  
Steve suddenly felt as though a cold hand had closed around his heart as he looked at Clint.

“Not since I went down.” Steve gulped, feeling his hands shaking, “Maybe you should ask Sam.”

Steve left hastened to leave and felt his breathing becoming shallow. 

He could remember it so clearly, the plane that he had pulled downward, pointing it’s nose to the icy vastness below him.  
No, not now. Not here. Steve thought, as his chest became tight. He had to control himself, no one could see this– least of all Bucky. He had to get a handle on this and fast. Steve walked over to the seats and bent down pretending to rummage through his bag. His breathing was sill shallow and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. 

Calm down. No one needs to see this.  
He was their leader, the one who called the shots. He was supposed to be Bucky’s help, his anchor. He couldn’t afford to have funny turns all over the place, he couldn’t show weakness.

It was unbecoming of a solider and not expected from Captain America.

 

Steve took a silent shuttering breath and forced his thoughts elsewhere. He fixed his mind on Bucky. That he was here and safe and not dead. It was Bucky and he was fine. 

Mostly. 

And that Steve could fix. Bucky’s was the type of amnesia he could cure. He couldn’t cure his mother’s; he couldn’t cure Peggy’s. But he could cure Bucky, and he would.

Steve straightened up and sat down across from Bucky again, having stopped his panicking mind from getting out of hand.  
Bucky fixed him with a stare, his face unreadable. 

“You should get some shut-eye.” Steve told him.

“So should you.” Was Bucky’s only response. 

*-*-*-*-*

Sam took over flying and then woke Clint up so he could land, saying “I’m a damn good flyer when it comes to going in a straight line, but I can’t land the son of a bitch to save my life.”

“Me neither.” Steve said bitterly. 

Neither Bucky nor Steve had slept and they barely spoke to one another the entire flight. Steve wouldn’t have minded sharing the silence with Bucky, but there were so many questions and things he wanted to say to Bucky, ‘Forgive me for not catching you on that train’ and ‘why don’t you remember me’ where on the top of his list. But he bit his tongue, knowing he had to give him space if he wanted to get his friend back.

Clint landed on a strip near the airport and they all got out. The sun was blinding and Steve squinted around the countryside.  
“Natasha says she’ll meet us at the jet. She has to make sure she wasn’t followed.” Clint said to the team.

Steve nodded as Bucky stood next to him, stretching. 

“How are you feelin’?” Steve asked him, glancing in his direction. 

Bucky shrugged. 

Steve sighed and felt pain shoot up his back. He took a gasping breath. Bucky’s hand rested on his back in an instant, his eyes filled with concern.

“Com’on Stevie, you need to lay down.” 

Steve looked up at Bucky  
“Did you just call me Stevie?” Steve asked, shocked.

“I guess I did… I don’t know why, it just sort of came out and-“ 

Steve cut off his rambling with a gentle touch to his hand, “I like it. You used to call me that all of the time back in Brooklyn.”

Bucky looked puzzled for a moment and then Steve let out a low moan as his back gave another twinge. Bucky’s face lined with worried, but Steve shrugged him off and shook his head, “I’m fine. Really. Please, don’t worry.”

The last thing Steve wanted was Bucky worrying about him.

Bucky stalked off.

They met up with Natasha a few minutes later. She drove a Land Rover with Fury sitting beside her, the car pulling close to the jet.  
Natasha got out of the car. 

“Steve.” She said, walking toward him, her mouth twitching into a smile.

“Hi Natasha.” He pulled her into a hug but winced and let go. She shot him a look but he shrugged and said, “Fury.” Inclining his head toward the director.  
Clint walked forward and pulling Natasha into a hug, “How’d the whole ‘taking down the Hydra base’ thing go Tasha?”

“Great. Fury and I cleared the place out. And we found some prisoners. Hill set a helicopter to pick them up and she’s taking them back to Stark’s place.”

“To Stark Tower?” Sam asked, appalled, “How is that going to help?”

“We don’t exactly have anywhere else to put them.” Fury growled, his expression cold but his sunglasses hiding his gaze.

“Yes, well… I think they’ll do better back at the base than at Stark Tower.” Sam snorted, “I mean-“

“They won’t comply.” Bucky growled from the back of the group. Everyone turned to look at him.

“What?” Natasha asked, her face cold and calculated. 

“They won’t comply to rehabilitation.” Bucky responded, his arms folded over his chest, “They were made to despise and distrust everything that is outside of Hydra. Why do you think so many people follow and believe in Hydra. It’s why SHIELD was dismantled, because Hydra is strong and powerful and SHIELD is a place for outcasts and scum–“

Fury crossed the distance between them in two strides and stood nose-to-nose with Bucky. Fury pulled a knife inches from Bucky’s throat.

“What did you say?” Fury breathed, his voice deadly.

“Hydra is strong.” Bucky replied with an air of nonchalance, holding his ground and his gaze with Fury.

Fury was breathing fast, “And you believe in them, do you?” 

“I have worked for Hydra all of my life.” Replied Bucky.

“No he hasn’t!” Steve interjected, stepping closer to the pair and they both glanced at him.

“It’s all I know.” Growled Bucky.

“You are James Buchanan Barns. Born in Brooklyn. You are 35 years old and you have a sister named Rebecca. You lost your ma’ and pa’ when you were little, but you moved in with me after my ma’ died. The first time we met you saved me from having my skull bashed in. You chassed away bullies when they picked on me, you tried to get me a new dame every week to dance with, but I always ended up dragging your drunk self home,” Steve felt embarrassment creeping onto his face but he plowed on, because Bucky was gazing at him with some sort of recognition. “You worked at the docks and came home tired every night, but you still managed to take care of me when I got real sick, even when I had influenza. You convinced me to go to art school and you let me draw you whenever I wanted to, you always stood so still. And when you left for war you told me not to be stupid and I said–“

“That I was taking all of the stupid with me.” Bucky finished, his face flushed and his eyes shone brighter than Steve had seen them so far.

Steve’s face broke into a true smile and he nodded. The group stood in stunned and confused silence and Steve laughed,  
“Now please, Director, step away. I can talk with him.” Steve implored. 

Fury took a breath and hooked his knife away again. 

“I’m not a Director anymore, Captain.”

“And I’m not a Captain anymore either.” Steve replied, smiling lightly. A rare smile hinted onto Fury’s face and he lead the group back to the Jet.  
Once they were all settled comfortably, Fury began, 

“Lets talk strategy. Your–“ he coughed, “Friend could be a huge asset in helping us take down Hydra.”

“What makes you think I would help you?” Bucky sneered.

“Buck, please.” Steve shot him a warning look before turning back to Fury, “With all due respect, sir, I need to take Bucky home. My mission was to find him and help him.”

“But Steve,” Natasha began from her curled positions on one of the chairs, “There are still Hydra bases out there. You heard what Red Skull said– we’ve got a long way to go if we want to wash out Hydra for good.”

“I know and I want to help, but I need to take care of my friend.” Steve insisted, glancing at Bucky. His face remained impassive.

“At least have him give us some intel.” Sam suggested.

“Or how about we don’t talk about him like he’s not sittin’ right here.” Bucky spat, looking around at them all.

“Will you help us?” Natasha turned to him, with the air of someone loosing her patience.

Bucky glanced at Steve who flashed him an encouraging smile. He shrugged.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Clint lifted an eyebrow. 

Bucky didn’t reply. 

“Steve, I need to talk with you for a minute.” Natasha said to him, standing. Steve followed Natasha out of the jet and onto the windy runway.

“What are you doing here Steve?” Natasha began.

“What’da mean?” 

“I mean with him, the Winter Solider. I know you said you were going to help him but Steve, we need your help.”

“I know, but he needs me. We are the only things from our past that we can hold onto. We are all the both of us have left.” Steve implored.

He wanted her to understand the terror mingled with excitement of seeing Bucky again. The prospect of loosing him or letting him fade was not an option for Steve. He was barely clinging on to this new and terrifying world on his own and the idea of Bucky being by his side again made things a little easier to bare.

 

He had come out of the ice, from war, and had leapt right back into war, but this time the battle was himself against the world. It was constantly trying to push him off the edge: The newfound technology, the people, the culture… it was all so different to Steve. Even Brooklyn looked different. No street had been untouched by change and that had scared him more then any Nazi or homicidal solider ever had.

 

He was terrified by what this new and frightening world had to offer and was glad to latch on to anything that reminded him of where he had come from.

Each morning, Steve would get out of bed and gaze at the picture on his bedside table. It was Peggy Carter, her eyes inquisitive and her smile mischievous. The sight of her made him both very happy and immensely sad all at once. Peggy… a woman who had taught Steve how to live, how to love, and how to be happy, now forgot who he was. She had forgotten him, after she had waited decades for him to return to her. The pain of it all made Steve want to shake his fist as the vastly expanding heavens, to the God’s, or Aliens, or Asguardian’s above him. He wanted to plead with them, to return him back to his own time, back into the arms of Peggy. So they could journey together in search for his lost friend, his lost love; for Bucky. They would rescue him before they tortured him, before they broke him, and everything would be normal… as normal as it gets for Captain America anyways.

Steve came to from his whimsing by the sound of Natasha’s voice.

“Steve, I just think you’re assuming a lot about him. He tried to kill us on that bridge, multiple times.” Her tone was spiked with bitterness.

Steve sighed, “I know, but Natasha, he’s my friend. I’ve known him practically my whole life. I just can’t give that up.”

“I’m not telling you to give up, but Clint told me what happened on the flight over here. I’m just saying,” She heaved a sigh, “You need to be careful if you want to help him. You can’t fix him Steve, only he can fix himself and only when he’s ready.” She fixed her cool gaze on him and Steve nodded. He knew, behind her cold exterior, she cared.

“You’re right, I know you are. I just… I want him back.”

“And you’ll get him back. But first you have to give him space.” 

Steve nodded again and followed Natasha back into the plane. Everyone was sitting in stony silence when they walked in. Steve nodded to Natasha who climbed into the pilots seat, flicking buttons and the jet’s slow whine grew louder. They were in the air again. Clint sat in the cockpit with Natasha. Sam, Steve, and Bucky were talking in low voices while Fury watched them from behind his newspaper.

“I mean,” Sam said, “What’s Hydra’s plan? Do they want to start a new SHIELD?”

Bucky shook his head, “Not a new SHIELD, they spent all of these years dismantling it, why would they rebuild? No, they just needed SHIELD out of the way so they could execute phase two of the plan.”

“The plan?” Steve quirked an eyebrow at Bucky, who shook his head and said, “I only know that it involves SHIELD being out of the way, along with Director Fury.”

They all glanced around at Fury and Sam snorted, “Well they fucked up that part of the plan, didn’t they? They didn’t manage to kill Fury.”

“They nearly did though.” Steve sighed. 

“So why all the prisoners? I thought Hydra had enough volunteers.” Sam asked Bucky, who gazed at the opposite wall answering,

“Since Captain America brought that plane down, assents haven’t been as willing to join. Seemed to think it was a lost cause. It is anything but that.”  
Steve’s brow furrowed, “Have they been hiding Hydra agents in SHIELD since my plane went down?”

Bucky nodded. Steve felt his stomach clench, “and no one ever knew?” 

“That’s why they need prisoners, to train them, to… prepare them for anything. Even Captain America.” Bucky’s dark eyes locked with Steve’s and he felt a chill run though him.

“That’s…” Steve began tentatively, “What they made you into?” 

Bucky kept his gaze on Steve but didn’t respond. 

“Then why did you come with us?” Sam asked, his tone cautiously curious.

“Because of something Steve said. It interested me.” 

“What?” 

“He said, ‘you can kill me but do it for a reason you know, not what they tell you.’”

Steve looked back into Bucky’s eyes, his expression softening.

“And,” Bucky continued, “I figured someone who says it’s okay to kill them means they would rather die for what they believe in then plead for their life. He showed trust in me even though I’ve tried to kill him every time we meet. No one has ever put that much trust in me, to put their life in my hands and allow me to do whatever I want with it.” 

Steve inclined his head. They all fell silent and Steve closed his eyes; before he could stop it, exhaustion took over his body. He awoke to the sound of the plane engine winding down. He opened his eyes to see everyone standing, grabbing bags and pulling on jackets.

“Are we here?” Steve asked stupidly, sitting up as Natasha and Clint walked out of the cockpit.

“Yes, sleepyhead.” Natasha grinned at him. Steve stood and looked around.

“Where’s Bucky?”

He wasn’t in the cabin. 

“I took a piss.” Came Bucky’s voice, his face appearing around the bathroom doorway, “Don’t freak out every time I leave a room.” He said irritably.

“Did you sleep at all?” Steve asked him.

Bucky shrugged, “a bit.” 

Steve quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t respond. 

“Where are we?” He asked the group at large. 

“France.” Natasha responded, “This town, Languedoc, is pretty remote. I thought we could lay low here for a while.”

“We are a pretty strange group.” Clint remarked, “Captain America, the Winter Solider, a dude with wings, two spies, and the former director of SHIELD who’s supposed to be dead.” 

Sam chuckled and followed a disgruntled Fury out of the plane. 

“Good point,” Steve agreed.

The air was warmer in France. The sun was shining weakly upon them and Steve found himself smiling, despite the impossible situation before him. He had Bucky back and even if he wasn’t fully back yet; he still was beside him and frankly that was all Steve cared about right now, the rest he could deal with later.

They had landed in an abandoned airport runway, surrounded by fields of grass.

“Put this on.” Steve handed Bucky his jacket.

Bucky took it and slipped it on over his metal arm. He nodded curtly to Steve before following Natasha, who led the group to the highway.

“What, are we gonna hitch-hike?” Sam joked as they began their walk down the long highway.

“That’s the plan.” Natasha said, her voice cool.

“What?!” Sam burst out, “We can’t hitch a ride! There are six of us!”

“Then I’ll get us a car!” Natasha shrugged, trudging ahead of the group, shouldering her bag. The rest of the men stood there in silence and watched as Natasha’s slender form grew smaller and smaller. She was nearly out of sight when Clint spoke.

“We should have just called for a cab.” 

“That’s not non-descript, Barton. If you don’t remember, we’re on the run.” Fury growled back at him, his tone sour.

Clint sighed, “I know…” Then to himself he mumbled, “But I’m not.”

A van pulled beside them and Steve looked around as the window rolled down.

“Get in.” Natasha said from the driver’s seat. 

The other five looked at one another in shock and pilled into the van. Fury hopped in front, cutting off Clint and forcing him to sit in the back with Sam. Clint rolled his eyes at Sam and muttered, “Patriarchy.”

“How did you get this?” Steve asked, amazed.

“I convinced the guy that I would return it in an hour.” Natasha replied.

“And will you return it?” Clint snickered.

“Sure and then I’ll take him to the movies.” Natasha scoffed. 

Steve lay back in his seat, his eyes itching with tiredness; he couldn’t have slept more than an hour on the plane. 

“Where are we going, Rogers?” Clint craned his neck to look at Steve. Steve opened his eyes to see everyone in the van looking at him. He sat up a bit straighter in his seat and coughed,

“Well I don’t know about anyone else but I think we all need some sleep. I say we go to a hotel.”

The group mumbled in general agreement and Natasha pulled off of the highway to the nearest town.

“How’s your arm?” Steve asked Bucky, his eyes raking his stiff form.  
“Fine.” Bucky replied. 

“Are you sure?”

Bucky responded with a curt nod, not taking his eyes off the road, Steve repressed a sigh. The countryside flicked by them. Steve spotted what looked like a medieval castle further up the rolling hill and a town just ahead that held a cluster of ancient-looking buildings. They pulled up to the hotel just outside of the small town.

“Let Clint and I check us in, since we both speak French.” Natasha told them.

Steve nodded in agreement and the pair exited. 

“How does it feel?” Bucky growled from his seat, looking at Fury.

“How does what feel?” Fury hissed.

“Not getting to order them around anymore?” Bucky sneered, “I bet it’s killing you that you have no place to go back to. Oh how it must eat ‘ya up inside.”  
“Buck-“ Steve growled but Fury held a hand to silence him.

“You are sounding a lot like a Hydra agent right now, solider. Is that what you still are?”

“I am Hydra’s first.” Bucky snapped, his eyes narrowing. 

Steve saw Fury’s eyebrows raise above his sunglasses, “Is that right? And are you planning on killing us anytime soon?”

“If I wanted to kill you I would have already done it.” Bucky pointed out.

“And he didn’t” Steve interjected before Fury could get fired up, “And Bucky, you are not our prisoner. You can leave anytime you like, after you hear me out, okay?”

Bucky didn’t respond but got out of the car. Steve waited for the door to close before whispering to Fury,

“I’m sorry, sir. He’s just having a hard time remembering who he is. He’s a great guy, really– it’s just lost underneath all of that.”

“Don’t apologize for your friend, Captain. But I want to warn you,” Fury looked right at Steve, his air commanding attention, “there may not be any of your friend left in there, he may not ever remember you or who you were. So don’t get your hopes up just to have them beaten down.” 

“He remembers.” Steve replied, crossing his arms over his chest, “Why else would he pull me from the water?”

“Don’t forget that he was the one to put you there in the first place.” Fury stated. 

Steve bit back a retort and got out of the car as well. 

The air felt cool against his healing skin and Steve found himself relaxing a bit. Fresh air had always done him well.

“Was he pissing you off too?” Came a voice from the shadows of the building. Steve glanced around to see Bucky, leaning against the stone building, a cigarette pinched between his metal fingers, his expression cool. Steve had the sudden urge to draw him, to sketch out the lines of his face and the curve of his body.

He took a step closer to Bucky and nodded,

“A bit, yeah.” He paused then added, “And I thought you quit smoking when you joined up.”

“And then I started again after I was cut off from injections.” Bucky said calmly, taking another long drag and puffing smoke out through his lips.

Steve sighed and moved in front of Bucky.

“Well you should stop.” Steve said sternly. 

“You can’t make me.” Bucky replied, a curl on his lips. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve replied, grinning a bit, “Do you want me to try?”

“Sorta.” Bucky smirked at Steve. 

“Well Buck. I could never get you to stop smoking anyways… Remember when I tried to hide all of your cigarettes, but you never kept any in the apartment. Then I found all of them on the roof?”

“No.” Bucky said, he eyes growing dark and his smile fading instantly from his lips, leaving his face looking sagged and hollow.

Steve stopped smiling too and heaved a sigh,

“Well I threw them all out and you were pretty angry at me for doing it too. You said they cost a fortune and I practically threw money in the trash.”

Bucky’s face remained blank. He simply stared at Steve and Steve shook his head, “I guess you don’t have to remember everything… but…” Steve looked into Bucky’s eyes, taking a step closer to him, “Maybe there are some things you can never forget.” He was now an inch away from Bucky, their faces so close that Steve could make out every tired line on his face. Bucky was looking into Steve’s face, his expression mildly curious.

“Maybe you’ll remember this.” Steve breathed, closing the distance between them and kissing Bucky on the mouth. 

Bucky didn’t miss a beat– he dropped his cigarette and grabbed Steve’s waist, pulling him closer. 

Steve jumped a little in surprise but didn’t back off, he just pressed harder on Bucky’s mouth, sliding his tongue across Bucky’s lips and they parted willingly for him. Steve pinned Bucky to the wall and his tongue explored Bucky’s mouth, his hands on Bucky’s face and entangled in his long hair. 

“Hey guys, Tasha’s got us rooms and-“ 

Steve and Bucky broke apart so quickly it was as though they had been electrocuted.

Sam stood frozen to the spot for a beat, looking back and fourth. 

“So… um… get your bags and meet us in the lobby…” Sam finished, his eyes wide and a small smile played on his mouth, “So… I’ll just…” He strode quickly away leaving the pair in a hefty silence.

Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest, and a oh so familiar feeling washed over him. It had been so long but that kiss felt just the same as it had all of those years ago.

Bucky coughed and Steve looked around at him. 

“I um… remember that.” 

Steve let out an uncomfortable noise, halfway between a laugh and a groan. 

“Yeah…” 

“We… did that a lot.” Bucky finished lamely. 

Steve actually laughed this time, “Yeah we did. But… why did you let me do it now?”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but looked thoughtful, “It just felt… normal… and I just…” Bucky’s face hardened and Steve felt his blood turn cold as Bucky began shaking his head.

“I… I can’t… Captain America lies… to everyone. Of course he is lying to me.” Bucky’s eyes darted around, looking anywhere but Steve. He straightened up and his expression became unreadable as he composed himself.

“This,” He began, “Never happened. Understand? I do not know who Bucky Barns is, but I am not the man you once knew. You cannot change that and will never change it. I shouldn’t be around you, you have compromised my mission.” Bucky turned and began walking back to the van. 

Darkness was gathering and the streetlamps had flickered on. Steve could see the metal of his hand illuminated in the dull glow.

Steve jogged to catch up with him, “No, Buck- Please don’t-”

“That’s not my name!” Bucky yelled, wheeling around and punching Steve hard in the face. Steve felt for the second time in two days his jaw crack under the metal arm. He bent double and pain spiked through his face. He composed himself and straightened up to see Bucky shouldering his bags from the car and heading inside. Closing his eyes briefly, Steve took a shuttering breath and followed.

 

Bright lights greeted him in the lobby and Steve blinked around. He saw the group standing in the corner by the elevator, waiting for him; Bucky was nowhere in sight. Steve walked over to them, feeling his head beginning to pound again. The blow had left him slightly nauseous. 

“Hey Steve, we got–“ Clint stopped talking when he saw Steve’s face, “What the hell happened to you?”

Steve replied by waving it off with his hand.

“Your jaw is bruised.” Natasha noted, looking hard at Steve’s face.

Steve shrugged, “It’s noting.” Talking, he discovered, hurt. He supposed cracking his jaw in the same place made it more difficult to heal the second time.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked, he was starting to mumble the words through the beginnings of a swollen lip.

“Upstairs.” Sam jerked his head, “He took a room key and went up.”

“Dammit,” Steve muttered, snatching a room key from Natasha and jabbing the lift button. Steve tapped his foot impatiently as it made it’s slow decent.

“Steve… what?”

Steve shook his head and said, “Not now. I’ll explain everything in a bit. Get some rest.” And the lift doors opened. 

Steve launched inside and watched the doors close on their faces. He growled as his jaw gave a painful stab. He pressed the ‘seven’ button and felt the lift begin to rise.  
How could he have been so stupid, kissing him like that? He had probably scared him off or confused him more. He was supposed to be helping his friend return to reality, to stop his killing urges and make him remember. Remember anything. But not this!

Steve closed his eyes; he might have just lost his chance to ever get his friend back again. The lift dinged open and Steve jumped out, flying down the hallway to his room. He ran the key through the door and stepped inside. He faced an empty room and at the other end stood an open window, with a breeze wafting through loose-hanging curtains. Bucky was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post. I am having so much fun with this story and I hope you are too! The action is going to pick up a ton after this chapter so be ready for that. 
> 
> There is much more to go and I will add tags when I post the next chapter, just to let you know. 
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think!!


	5. Chapter 5

Brooklyn 1940

His hand gripped a pencil, tracing lines over a half-drawn face. 

“What are you up to?” A voice asked from the living room. Steve looked up to see Bucky grinning at him. 

“I’m drawin’.”

“Is that supposed to be me?” Bucky asked, crossing the length of the room and sinking onto the couch next to Steve, the springs groaning in protest. 

“Yeah.” Steve replied, shading in the drawing’s eyes. 

“Ya want me to sit for ya?” Bucky asked, his eyes mischievous.

“Na Buck, I have your face memorized at this point.” 

“Oh?” 

Steve glanced up at him and nodded shyly. Bucky grinned as Steve batted his eyelashes playfully. 

Bucky stood.   
“How was work?” 

“Got cut on one of those sharp metal ends when we were weldin’” Bucky indicated a gash along his left arm. 

Steve stood, his face mockingly worried, “If we don’t get that taken care of, we’ll have to chop it off!” Steve’s mouth tugged into a sly grin as Bucky punched him playfully in the shoulder, 

“Stuff it, Rogers.” 

“Com’ere, let’s get that cleaned up.” Steve led Bucky into the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet. He pulled out the first aid kit and dampened a cloth.

“I now know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a doctoring up.” Bucky remarked through gritted teeth, as Steve poured peroxide onto the cut. 

“Oh take it like a man.” Steve teased, his hands gently applying a band-aid. Bucky closed his eyes, feeling weary. 

“You alright?” Steve’s hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder. He opened his eyes and nodded. 

“Well, it’s left-over’s tonight if you want to come and sit.” 

Bucky nodded and followed Steve out of the bathroom. 

Their shared apartment was relatively small. Steve, after much protesting, had let Bucky move in after his mother’s death.   
They sat at the tiny wooden table; the sounds of slurping soup and spoons hitting bowls filled the comfortable silence. 

“We got any more food?” Bucky asked, finishing his bowl and standing. 

Steve’s face reddened as she shook his head. “Can’t buy much with two dollars, can we?” 

“I’m sorry.” Bucky apologized.

Steve shook his head, “You’re the one workin’ Buck. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize Stevie, you’ve got school to work on.” 

“That you worked to pay for, see Buck- it’s my fault. I think I should drop out, get a job.” 

Bucky shook his head, his eyes set, “No Steve, you can’t give up your art. Not when you’re gettin’ so good.” 

Steve sighed and said, “Then I’ll just work after I go to class.” 

Bucky looked like he wanted to argue but Steve cut in, “Then we’ll have more money to put food on the table again.” 

Bucky signed, knowing it was pointless to argue with Steve, he always did what he wanted to do. 

“Okay. Well I’m going to bed. I’m beat.” And with a soft goodnight to Steve, he left the room. Steve stood in the semi-darkness of the kitchen. He sighed and ran the dishes under the sink, grabbing a grimy-looking towel from the rack and scrubbing the plates. Not long after, Steve followed Bucky back to the room they shared. As he slipped into his own bed he noticed that the room was void of Bucky’s usual soft snores, and knew he must still be awake. Sighing softly, Steve soon drifted off to sleep. 

Steve awoke the next morning to weak sunlight hitting his face. He sat up to see Bucky pulling on his pants. 

“Mornin’” Bucky greeted. 

Steve smiled to him and yawned in response. 

Bucky went to leave the room but Steve stopped him. “Wait. I want to take a look at that cut before you leave for the docks.” 

Bucky sighed but didn’t protest as Steve peeled back the bandage to see the cut already healing. 

Having confirmed it suitable, Steve followed Bucky out of the room. 

“I’m gonna get a job today, Buck. Something that’ll pay me right off the bat.” 

Bucky only hummed in response. 

“Not anything too strenuous, punk. I don’t want ya over workin’ yourself.” 

Steve snorted, “I’m not a baby, Jerk.” Steve rolled his eyes and threw his friend an affectionate glance before saying, “Have a good day at work.”

Bucky waved his goodbye and headed out the door. 

Steve went to his classes in the morning and on his break he headed to the newsstand near school. The November breeze promised a cold night. He wrapped his thin coat around himself and paid for the paper. He pulled out the classifieds and began scanning for jobs.

He got a job as a paperboy. It wasn’t much, but Steve found himself grinning as he made his way home, huddled against the wind. 

That night he told Bucky about his job, and Bucky half-smiled, half-scowled. 

“Ya have to ride a bike and everything?” 

“Yeah…”

“You have asthma Steve, how do you expect to-“

“I’ll manage.” Steve said defiantly. “I start tomorrow. I do the route before class even starts, so it wont interfere.”   
Bucky looked doubtful. 

“I dunno Steve, it seems like it may be hard on your lungs.”

Steve snorted but internally he agreed with him. Still, they needed the money.

Steve borrowed Bucky’s younger sisters old bike and gathered up the stack of papers, tipping them into the little basket in the back. The sun hadn’t even risen when he headed out. Bucky was still snoring when he left. 

The unrelenting cold hit Steve’s face and he shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around him. He began riding down the street, tossing papers at the doorsteps. Most papers didn’t reach the doorstep, but landed in the yard. 

Steve cursed his weak throws as the wind whipped his face. He coughed and rode on. 

Steve went to class after his route, wheezing slightly but managing it. He came home three hours later, his breath rasping. 

The week drove on, bringing colder weather and harsh winds. Steve continued the paper route and class. 

Bucky came home late on Friday night, walking through the doorway, his face flushed. Steve lay curled on the couch. He stood weakly as Bucky came inside.

“Buck-“ Steve broke into a coughing fit. 

Bucky looked at Steve, worry creasing his face. 

“Stevie. What did I tell ya?”

Steve coughed thickly, his breath rattling and his chest heaving.

“Ya need to lay down.” 

Bucky strode over to Steve and helped him to their bedroom. He sat Steve down on his bed, as he broke into another coughing fit. Bucky sat beside him, rubbing his back in small circles until the coughing subsided. 

“Okay now?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded, taking gulps of air to try and force them down his useless lungs.

“Hurts.” Steve coughed, his body trembling. 

“I know it does, Stevie. Com’on, lay down.” 

He laid Steve down on the bed as he trembled. 

“I’m gonna getcha some water. Try to sleep.” 

Bucky left the room leaving Steve looking up at the dark ceiling above him. Outside the wind howled and snow began to drift lazily down, caking the windowsill in frosty ice. 

“I’m gonna borrow some more blankets from Mr. Gunnerson next store.” Steve heard Bucky call to him. Steve tried to reply, but inhaled too much cold air and began coughing again. Bucky came running into the room, glass of water sloshing everywhere. 

Once Steve had settled down again, Bucky propped his pillows and forced the half-empty glass of water into his hand.  
“Drink.” He ordered, leaving to get more blankets. When he returned Steve was fast asleep, the empty glass lying slack in his slender hands. Bucky smiled and covered his friend with three thick blankets, brushing a stray hair off his face. His gaze melted when he saw Steve sleeping, looking so venerable. 

Bucky slipped into his own bed, listening to each of Steve’s steady breaths, and soon his own breathing matched Steve’s as he drifted off to sleep. 

 

Present day

 

Steve hadn’t stopped running since he had followed Bucky out of that window. He sprinted through the streets, desperate for any signs of his friend. He glanced down the alleys until he spotted a dark shape. Steve’s eyes widened as he sprinted forward. He saw Bucky there, bent double, vomiting on the pavement. Steve approached quietly and stopped behind him.

“Hey there, Buck.” His voice was deep with concern, and a bit muddled due to the crack in his jaw. Bucky didn’t turn but wiped his mouth, with the back of his flesh hand. Steve saw his limbs shaking violently and he crossed the small distance between them to put his arm around him. Bucky twitched a bit at the touch but didn’t push him away. Taking this as a good sign, Steve helped him lean against a nearby wall, far from the pool of vomit. 

“Buck-“

“Hum.” He grunted. 

“You shouldn’t run off like that.” Steve said, his tone gently but scolding. 

Bucky shrugged, “I can do whatever I like.” 

“I know you can, but I want to help you get better. Have you been sick like this a lot?”

“Only when I haven’t had any.”

“Any what?”

“The serum.” 

Steve’s stomach plummeted. 

“Ah Buck-“

“Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do.” He said shortly, pushing away form Steve and sinking to a sitting position. Steve copied him.

“Can I help?” 

“Unless you have something that makes d-toxing easier, then no.” 

Steve fell silent before a moment then an idea struck him, “I know someone back in New York who could help you! He’s good at figuring out alternative medicine for me, I’m sure Doctor Banner could-“

“No doctors.” Bucky replied.

“He’s not really a doctor, but he’s really good at helping-“

“No doctors.” Bucky repeated. 

Steve dropped it.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Steve finally said. 

Bucky looked at him.

“About kissing you… I didn’t mean to confuse you, I had just missed you so much and I-“

“You didn’t confuse me.” Bucky deadpanned, “You helped me see the truth, and not the lies that Hydra filled my head with. That’s why I ran, because I don’t know what’s real anymore. How can I trust you, when Hydra told me you are a liar? Who am I supposed to believe?” 

“Who do you think you should trust?” 

For the first time since Steve had picked Bucky up, he saw true fear cross his face. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Steve put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“I killed so many people.” Bucky whispered, his voice hoarse.

“You had no choice.” 

“You always have a choice, I just stopped resisting.” 

“Bucky-“

“I let them erase me.” 

“I can help get you back. I’m with you ‘till the end of the line, remember? I wish I could erase those years of your life, just as much as I wish I could have gotten out of that plane before it crashed.” He swallowed before continuing, “But we’re back together, beatin’ all the odds, Buck. It’s you and me and we’re here together again. That’s what matters.” 

Bucky nodded, a single tear falling down his face. Steve went to put his arms around Bucky but Bucky jerked away violently, elbowing Steve in the face. Blood spurted from his nose and Bucky cringed. 

“I’m sorry!” He spluttered.

“No, it’s okay.” Steve said through a bloody nose, wiping the blood on his sleeve, “It was just a reaction it’s alright.” 

Bucky looked at Steve before his face fell into Steve’s chest. Steve flinched slightly before realizing what Bucky was doing. He slowly put his arms around Bucky, shielding him and putting everything he wanted to say into that hug. 

After Bucky’s silent crying subsided, he looked up at Steve. 

“I think the longer I’m away from the serum, the more I remember.” 

“What are you remembering now?” 

“You. Coughing horribly, in bed. It was that winter before the war where you got phenomena.”

Steve nodded, “I remember that too.” 

“I was so worried you were gonna-“

“Hey, I’m fine, see?” Steve said, letting Bucky look at his bruised and bloodied face. Bucky snorted in disbelief but nodded.  
“Lets go back, get some sleep.”

Bucky looked around wearily and his face was reset into its indifferent mask. Steve watched him closely all the way back to the hotel. 

 

Brooklyn 1940

 

Steve awoke with a start, his limbs shaking as coughs racked his body. He sat up, trying to catch a breath but his lungs weren’t intent on cooperating. He hacked and choked, but apparently air was hard to come by. He felt a warm hand close around his own. Steve looked around wildly to see Bucky’s wide eyes looking back at him.

“Can you breathe for me Stevie?” 

Steve tried, he really did, but his asthma had other ideas. 

“That’s okay Steve, come on, just take short little breaths, that’s it.” He pulled Steve close to him, almost onto his lap. Steve felt a little ridiculous sitting on his friends lap, but his vision started to become hazed and he grabbed onto the collar of Bucky’s shirt, clinging to him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, Steve. Breathe in like this” He demonstrated a long slow breath in which Steve tried to copy. It was hard, but he managed a small intake of air. 

“Good, another?” 

Bucky sat there, cradling Steve and mumbling words of encouragement into his ear. 

“There you go, Stevie. See? Told ya you could do it.” He ran his hands through Steve’s sweaty hair as he gasped for another breath. 

“I haven’t seen an asthma attack that bad in a while.” Bucky remarked, his eyes filled with worry. 

“I’m… okay…” Breathed Steve. 

“I know ya are, punk. But you can’t keep scarin’ me like that.” Bucky mumbled, nearly to himself. 

“Thanks.” Steve whispered to him, before lapsing into another coughing fit. 

“I’m gonna go get you some more water.” Bucky announced, untangling himself from Steve’s skinny limbs. Slim fingers wrapped around his wrist and Bucky stopped. 

Steve looked up at him and whispered, “Stay.” 

“Okay punk, I’ll stay. But only ‘cause I like you.” 

He sat back down and allowed Steve to lean his head onto his chest. Bucky listened to his breathing and kissed the top of Steve’s head absentmindedly.   
Steve looked up at him, his eyes wide. 

“Oh shit, Steve sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I guess I was just mother-henning and didn’t know what I was doin’-“

Steve kissed him full on the lips, stopping his speech. Bucky’s eyes widened as he felt Steve’s lips on his own. He grabbed Steve’s face and pulled him closer. He smiled into the kiss, making Steve pull away. 

“You actually… liked that?” Steve asked him, struggling to regain his breath, partially from the asthma, but mostly from the fact that Bucky Barns had just kissed him. 

“Boy, did I.” Bucky surprised himself, “Of course, Steve. I’ve always… well I mean to say… you’re a swell guy and I…” 

“Ya know Buck, for all the sweet talkin’ you give to the dames, you aren’t as smooth as I thought.”

“That’s just ‘cause you’ve got me all flustered, Rogers, coming on to me like that an-“

Steve kissed him again. 

“Whoa there Stevie, lets take it slow, will ya? Ya just had a pretty bad attack and-“

Steve silenced him with another kiss and Bucky shut up, kissing him back. 

 

Present Day

 

They made it back to the hotel and Steve walked Bucky to their room. 

Bucky’s appearance was thrown into sharp relief and Steve saw in full light how pale Bucky looked. Dark circles clung to the ends of his eyes and his lips were sagged in a deep frown. 

“Bucky-“

Bucky bolted to the bathroom and Steve heard him retching. He stood still by the doorway, unsure of what to do. Bucky came out a few minutes later, shaking slightly.

“Here.” Steve grabbed an empty glass from the counter and filled it in the sink with tap water. 

“Drink this.”

Bucky complied and sank onto one of the twin beds. Steve sat in the other bed and watched him carefully. He looked exhausted. 

“You need to get a good nights sleep.”

“Yes sir.” Bucky replied, smirking at Steve. Steve couldn’t bring himself to smile back, Bucky looked so broken. 

“Lay down.” Steve said, getting up to take the empty glass from his friend’s hand. He set it on the bedside table and then gently pushed Bucky into a lying position. 

“I’m not tired.” Bucky slurred.

“Sure ya aren’t.” Steve snorted, draping him up with thick blankets. 

Bucky made a non-committal noise of pleasure and closed his eyes. Steve smiled as he watch him slip into sleep. He got up and flicked off the lights, throwing the room into semi-darkness, a yellowish hue filtering in from a nearby streetlamp. 

Steve slipped into the state between sleeping and waking for quite some time until Bucky started making soft moaning sounds in his sleep. 

Steve sat up and looked around. Bucky sat up too, giving a strangled cry. Steve moved quickly to his bed and sat next to him. Bucky was panting hard and when he saw Steve, he froze, terror consuming his face. 

“You.” He growled and tackled Steve to the ground. Steve yelped as Bucky’s metal hand closed around his throat. 

The door flew open and Natasha sprinted into the room, closely followed by Sam, Clint, and Fury bringing up the rear. 

Natasha swung out her foot and it connected with Bucky’s face. Bucky recoiled and loosened his grip on Steve. Steve coughed and heaved as Sam trained a gun on Bucky. Bucky clutched his bleeding nose and pulled his knees up his chest. Steve sat up and looked around, massaging his neck. 

“Are you just going to let him keep doing this to you?” Sam asked coldly, his gaze shifting from Bucky, to meet Steve’s eyes. Steve had never seen his friend looking so angry. 

“It’s okay, guys. Thanks.” Steve replied, his voice raspy. 

“He nearly killed you, if that’s what you qualify as okay, then I’d hate to see what you’re like when you’re not okay.” Clint snapped, his posture tense.

“Seriously. It was an accident.”

“That’s one hellva accident.” Fury snorted, shaking his head. 

Steve sighed and stood to face them. 

“I brought him back. He’s alright. I’m helping him. He’s already de-toxing from the serum.”

Sam looked blankly back at Steve,   
“What do you mean ‘brought him back’? Did he go some place?”

Steve glanced at the floor and murmured, “He climbed out of the window, but I found him.” 

All four looked stunned, while Bucky remained silent. 

“Go back to bed. We leave first thing in the morning.” Steve said.

Fury left first, followed by a doubtful-looking Clint. Sam patted Steve on the back and left as well. Natasha however still stood over Bucky. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing. A lot of my friends have died by my hand, I know how easy it can be for him to kill you.” 

She stalked out of the room without a backward glance. 

Steve sank onto the ground beside Bucky, who turned his gaze away from him.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. 

Bucky didn’t respond. Steve noticed he was shaking. 

“I’m sorry to scare you like that, Buck. I didn’t mean ‘ta get ya all worked up.” 

Bucky shook his head and finally looked at his friend. 

“You shouldn’t be apologizing, Steve. It’s just, I haven’t slept like a normal person in almost seventy years.” 

Steve nodded, “And I’ve slept too long. C’mon, lets get you back in bed and I can stay up, in case you need me.” 

Bucky nodded, looking lost. 

Steve lifted him back into bed and pulled the covers over him, 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Steve whispered to Bucky, who turned his face to Steve. Before he could pull away, Bucky grabbed a fistful of Steve's hair and brought him down for a kiss. Steve’s eyes widened then he kissed Bucky back, hoping to put many unspoken emotions into that kiss. 

“What-“ Steve began as they pulled apart, “Was that for?”

“For not giving up on me.” Bucky looked both confused and pleased with himself. Steve grinned in the half darkness and made his way back to his own bed, listening for Bucky’s breathing to slow. 

 

*-*-*-*-

 

They packed and left the next morning, before dawn, and after shoveling down a quick breakfast, Sam drove with Clint in the front, smirking.   
The two chatted idly while Steve and Bucky sat in the middle and Fury and Natasha took the back. 

“Where are we going?” Clint asked. 

“Nearest Airport.” Steve replied, “We should get outta here.”

“I need to get back to Washington.” Fury replied.

“And I need my jet back.” Natasha said stiffly, folding her arms in front of her. 

“I’ll come with you.” Clint replied. “And then go back to the tower together.” 

Steve kept whispering quietly to Bucky, he would grin, nodding and mumbling something back.

“Looks like you two are getting along better this morning.” Clint remarked, looking back at them both. 

“I guess.” Steve shrugged, looking at Bucky. Bucky inclined his head and faced Clint.

“So Steve tells me you’re a good marksman.” 

“Good?” Clint looked at Steve, an expression of hurt crossing his face, “I’m the best archer ever. I’m bruised, Rogers, really.” 

Steve shook his head and a smile quirked on his face. 

“So Director Fury,” Sam called from the front, “Got any ideas on how you’re gonna re-build SHIELD?”

Fury sighed and began to explain his situation. Steve stopped listening; his eyes trained on Bucky- whose shoulders had gone tense and his face screwed up in pain.

“Pull over.” Bucky mumbled. 

“What?” Sam asked

“Pull over now.” 

Bucky had turned a sickly shade of green and he clutched his stomach. Sam pulled onto the shoulder near a cliff face and Bucky flew out of the car, running some distance away. Steve followed, turning around a bend to see Bucky, retching on the side of the road. Steve rubbed his back and whispered words of reassurance.

Bucky straightened up. 

“You alright Buck?” 

Bucky nodded, his hands trembling slightly. 

“C’mon, lets get you some place you can lie down.”

“No. I’m fine. I am not weak, you understand? I am a solider and I follow orders.” Bucky’s face was pulled into its allusive mask as he spoke.   
“Alright, Buck. I know you’re not weak.” 

Steve led Bucky, looking sullen, back to the van.

“Sorry about that.” Steve mumbled to the group and they set off down the road again. Bucky’s face remained passive and emotionless for the rest of the journey. 

The group parted ways at the airport.

“Take care of yourself, Steve. And if he gives you any more of a hard time, call.” Natasha whispered to Steve, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thanks for you help.” Steve replied. 

He then shook hands with Fury and nodded to Clint.

“I’ll see you back at the Avengers tower in a few months?” He asked Clint and Natasha. They both smiled and nodded.

Sam bought them three tickets to Norway; from the intel Bucky gave them, there were some hide-away places they could go without being followed.

“They’ll be missing their best asset.” Bucky muttered darkly. 

Sam shook his head and replied, “We stick out like a sore thumb, so I’m all for stayin’ hidden. 

“Good. Lets go.” Steve led them to the gate. 

*-*-*-*-*-*

The plane landed and Steve heaved his bag and shield over his solider. They rented a car and Steve drove, heading toward the motorway. Sam sat in the front and Bucky stretched out in the back, closing his eyes to the nausea. 

Steve’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Capsicle!” 

“Stark.” Steve deadpanned. 

“Why the sour tone, Cap? We’ve got a fight we need you in.” 

Steve’s eyebrows skyrocketed.

“Avengers business?” 

“Yep. We’ve got a massive incursion of doom bots. The Fantastic Four are out of town, apparently, leaving us to clean them up. When can you get here?”

“I uh… can’t.” Steve replied. 

“Why not?” Tony asked, sounding hurt.

“I’ve got personal things to attend to, I’m across the world already.” 

“Ah, I see– Nat told me your boyfriend is keeping you busy.” 

“He’s not… we’re not… I’m not… Tony-“

“Calm down Rogers, I don’t care who you like. Fine, we’ll handle this on our own, but it’s our funeral with me running the show. Who knows, I could get us all killed without you barking orders. I’ll have to salute to myself.” 

“Yeah, okay. Look Stark I’m sorry I can’t be there. If it were anything else I would- but it’s important-“

“Believe me I understand. Relationship trouble is the worst.”

“We’re not-“

“Don’t get your red, white, and blue boxers in a twist Cap. Anyway, we all miss your star-spangled ass at the tower. I’ve had to make my own breakfast and clean up my own dishes. It’s awful.” 

Steve snorted. “That must be terrible. How on earth do you manage?”

Tony gave a grieving sigh, “I don’t know Cap, I don’t know.”

There was a sound of Clint’s voice yelling some profanity at Tony on the other line and he replied, “Oh gotta go before Katniss picks his next target in the Hunger Games.” and Tony hung up with a snap. 

Steve huffed at the phone and threw it back into his bag.

“Was that Tony Stark?” Sam asked him.

“Yeah. They wanted me to help out with the Avengers, but I can’t go now, I mean…” Steve glanced back at Bucky. 

“I’m flattered.” Bucky mumbled, his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest. Steve and Sam smiled and drove along the road. 

 

*-*-*-*-*

They found a hotel along a sheer cliff, cascading to a wide lake. Sam checked them in and Steve and Bucky followed him to their room. Sam had bought himself a separate room and Steve whispered, “Thanks. I think It’ll give us time to work things out.” 

“I bet it will.” Sam snorted, giving Steve a bemused look, “Just let me know the plan when we have one.” and he headed into his own room. 

Bucky collapsed onto his bed and Steve sank down on the end of the other bed, burying his face in his hands. Steve closed his eyes and felt his body throb with dull pain and the slight tingling from healing. 

“You look hurt.” Came Bucky’s voice. Steve lifted his head to see Bucky gazing at him; a slightly worried expression lingered through the curtains of dark hair. 

“It’s not too bad.” Steve shrugged. 

Bucky got up and sat beside Steve, his metal hand resting on Steve’s hip. 

“You look beat.” Steve replied.

“So do you.”

They fell silent and Bucky whispered, “I remember that night. After you got sick, and I held you there… we were so close, and I could breathe in all of you. Steve… I can remember so much now. It’s all becoming clear to me.”

Steve felt his heart pounding like a drum. His eyes locked with Bucky’s. 

“You remember?”

“Not everything. But enough to decide between the lies Hydra told me and what you say is true. Or at least what I think is true.” Bucky’s voice trailed off and he pushed a stray hair out of his face. 

“What I can’t seem to figure out is why.”

“Why what?” 

“Why I feel so contaminated. They… did things to me and they made me feel nothing. And now, I feel too much.” Bucky bent his head low and the long sweeping hair concealed his expression. “I… killed so many people… people we knew, people on the good side. And I didn’t want to stop. They put a drive in me; they made me like the pain… the killing… the espionage. I murdered so many people and I-“ Bucky’s voice cracked. 

Steve placed a finger on Bucky’s chin and lifted it. A single tear slid down Bucky’s face and Steve sighed heavily. 

“Don’t go down that road, Bucky. It’ll only make you feel worse.”

“But I-“

“You’ve changed. What they did to you doesn’t define you. You are in control of your life again Buck and you can do whatever you want with it. They don’t control you, no one does. You got that?”

Bucky nodded and averted his eyes from Steve.

Steve saw so much plain emotion on Bucky’s face and he placed a hand on his back. 

“Do you think all of the drugs are out of your system?” 

“I doubt it.” Bucky replied, “I didn’t exactly get one dose of it. They’d pump it into me every few hours.”

“Jesus Buck.” 

They fell silent. 

“Do you want to go to sleep?” Inquired Steve. 

“No. You?”

Steve shook his head, a grin tracing his lips. 

“Do you remember the night after I found out I got my orders?” Bucky asked suddenly, his eyes alight.

Steve’s cheeks turned a dark shade of scarlet unfitting to Captain America. Bucky grinned slyly. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Do you remember this?” Bucky asked, moving forward and sinking his lips gently onto Steve’s neck. A low moan escaped Steve’s lips and he laughed lightly. “Buck, hold on.” Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes dark, but not with his usual deadened look, but with an almost lustful gaze. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“I want to know if what I remember is real or not.” Bucky replied, pressing his lips into the spot on Steve’s neck and nipping him playfully Steve tipped his head back and ran his hands slowly through Bucky’s long hair. 

“Consider it a test of my lacking memory.” Bucky mumbled.

Steve leaned forward and Bucky relinquished his hold on Steve’s neck to meet his lips. They kissed deeply and Steve ran his hands down Bucky’s back, pulling him closer on the bed. 

“I think you’re overdressed for this occasion.” Bucky mumbled through the kiss. 

“I’d say so.” Steve smirked, his face still red in embarrassment. “But are you sure about this Bucky? I don’t want to rush you.” 

Bucky tugged at the hem of Steve’s loose white t-shirt and pulled it up over his head. 

“I’m sure.” Bucky replied, his eyes turning hungrily mischievous as he placed his metal hand on Steve’s bare chest. Steve shuttered a bit at the cold but grinned. Bucky pushed him onto the bed and straddled him.

“Boy am I glad you have you back. I never thought I.. I mean, you were dead and you fell off that train and I just…” Steve mumbled through their kiss.   
“Shhh.” Bucky hushed, pulling him to his chest, “I’m back… mostly. And I’m here to stay now.” 

Steve nodded into Bucky’s chest, then pulled Bucky’s shirt off him and threw it to the floor. Bucky leaned forward and laid his tongue on Steve’s bare chest, and Steve moaned as Bucky lightly sucked his nipple. 

“Buck.”

“You like that?”

Steve didn’t respond but let his hands wander around Bucky’s bare chest, as though he was trying to memorize each curve of his body, each blemish, each freckle and hair. There was something frantically passionate about the way they touched one another.

“It’s been too long.” Steve mused, leaning his head back as Bucky planted kisses down his chest. Bucky’s kisses faltered as he looked up at Steve.

“Have you not had sex in 70 years?” 

“More like 75.” Steve chuckled. 

Bucky’s mouth fell open. Steve’s face turned another shade of red. 

“I was asleep for most of that time!” 

“Not since the war?”

“You haven’t either!” Steve retorted indignantly. 

“Like hell I haven’t.” Bucky snorted, “You don’t think the Winter Solider can’t get some on the side?” 

Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky said, “Well then, I’m gonna have to work harder to get you to remember everything.” 

“I remember how to!” Steve stammered. 

“Okay.” Bucky shook his head in bemusement.

“I mean I’ve gotten this far.” Steve noted, gesturing around him. 

“If you didn’t notice, I’m the one on top of you.” 

Steve snorted and rotated his hips, flipping them in a tumbling mass, so Steve was now on top of Bucky, grinning malevolently.

“Check again.” Steve replied smugly. 

Bucky snarled playfully and pulled Steve into a deep hungry kiss. 

Steve marveled at the change in Bucky. He felt as though they were back in Brooklyn, sharing a bed and watching the snow drift down out the window, their toes touching and huddled for the warmth. It seemed so strange that they were in some unknown country in some unknown time period. They were two people, oddly displaced, who had found one another again. 

But then again Steve was a hopeless romantic. 

Bucky’s kisses were desperate and close. His tongue wanted to explore Steve and Steve’s hands wanted the same. 

Steve kissed Bucky’s neck, his hands massaging his chest and working their way down to his belt. He undid the buckle and pulled it off. Bucky flinched slightly as Steve threw the belt to the floor. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, backing off slightly. 

“Yeah.” Bucky breathed, his eyes momentarily filled with fear, but dissipating as Steve kissed him softly on the lips. 

“We can take it slow.” 

Bucky nodded and Steve felt his pants being unbuttoned. He stripped off his pants and helped Bucky do the same. 

Steve lay beside Bucky on the bed, planting kisses sporadically over Bucky’s skin. 

“I want you.” Bucky moaned, pushing himself closer to Steve so they were right up against one another. Bucky sat up and moved himself onto Steve, grinding on him through their boxers.

“Buck.” Steve moaned, gripping Bucky’s hair and pulling him down for another kiss. 

“I want you.” Bucky repeated. 

Steve just nodded, his face feeling hot and he tugged on the elastic of Bucky’s boxers. He hastily pulled them off and looked at Bucky. 

“You are just a beautiful as I remember.” Steve grinned sloppily.

“And you are just as cheesy.” Bucky teased, allowing Steve to grab his cock and caress it lightly. It was already hard to Steve’s touch and he felt himself harden. Bucky moaned and surreptitiously pulled off Steve’s boxers as well. 

“Oh Stevie, I want you.” 

“I want you too.” 

Bucky ran his fingers over Steve’s pelvic area, tracing the defined muscle and bone before caressing Steve’s hard on in his own hand. Steve moaned and Bucky grinned at Steve’s pleasure. 

“I want to do it now.” Bucky whispered, “I want all of you Steve.” 

Steve sat up and met Bucky’s eyes. They kissed slowly but Steve felt himself begin to tremble slightly. He shook a bit and tired to stop it because he shouldn’t be scared right now. Bucky pulled him into a hug and kissed his neck gently. 

“It’s alright Stevie, I’ve got you. You remember the first time, Steve? You were scared outta your mind. But you don’t need to be, I’m here.” 

“I was scared that someone was gonna find out about us. Or that I was just dreaming, and you weren’t really there.” Steve mumbled, willing himself to stop being so childish. Bucky was here in his arms, and this wasn’t a dream. Or at least he hoped to god it wasn’t.

“Do you think you’re dreaming now?”

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment since I knew you were alive Bucky.” 

Bucky pulled his face into his hands and kissed him, “Then there’s no need to be scared, I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m right here and we’re together. I can clear my head now Steve, and at least know that you are real and everything else can go on hold. Because you are in my arms and a few months ago I didn’t even remember you. You saved me when I tried to kill you.”

“None of that matters now. I’m with you.” Steve replied, his eyes locked with Bucky’s. 

“Oh god Stevie. You are so sexy right now.” 

Steve grinned and Bucky pushed him back onto the cushions, grinding against him and making Steve’s back arch. 

“Lets do this Steve. I need you.” 

“Okay.” Steve pushed Bucky off of him with all of the willpower he could muster. 

“We need lube and condoms.” 

“I don’t have any.” 

“Neither do I.” Steve replied, looking worried, “Oh this isn’t good.”

Bucky looked desperately at Steve and said, “Maybe the front desk has some.” His voice was hinting on hilarity and Steve knew where he was going with this.   
“No I am not going down there to ask.” 

“I’m sure as hell not. C’mon you know they will be more cooperative with a fella like you Rogers. I mean, you’re smart, strong and pretty.” Bucky smacked Steve’s ass and pulled him in for another kiss. 

“I’ll be even more grateful to you if you go. When you get back, I’ll prove to you just how grateful I am.” Bucky replied, a sly smile creeping up his face. Steve crossed his arms in defense, but the effect was far less impressive when naked. Bucky pulled his best pouting face and Steve caved. 

“Fine.” Steve huffed, snatching up his robe and huffing down the stairs. 

Ten minutes later Steve was back with a box and a small bottle in his hand. 

Bucky broke into a fit of laughter at the look on Steve’s face. It was the most wonderful sound Steve had heard, he hadn’t actually seen Bucky laugh in over 70 years. It was like music to his ears. Regardless, Steve had turned another brilliant shade of red that looked dangerously close to the red on his shield lying against a nearby wall. 

Bucky stood to join him. “I got it and I think now the entire hotel lobby knows that Captain America is getting laid. We’re going to have to move out of the country or-" 

Bucky kissed him full on the mouth. 

Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s skin again. He kissed Bucky hard and Bucky threw off Steve’s robe. They toppled onto the bed together and Steve squirted some of the lubricant onto his fingers. 

“Are you ready?” He asked gruffly and Bucky’s eyes lit with desire. 

Steve ran his hands slowly down to Bucky’s dick, massaging it; he slowly inserted his finger into Bucky. Bucky moaned lowly and squirmed around Steve. Steve put in the next finger, moving it around slowly and relishing in the sounds coming from Bucky. He put in the third and Bucky sighed with longing.

“Stevie. Now, I want you.” 

Steve knew he was ready and Steve was just about to burst himself. He planted kisses all around Bucky’s lower back making him shutter under him. He removed his fingers and opened the condom package, slipping it on. Steve ran his hands all down his back. Bucky lifted his head and Steve murmured, 

“You are so wonderful.” While Bucky moaned back, “I’ve missed you so much, I just hadn’t realized it.” 

Steve pushed himself into Bucky, feeling Bucky around him and breathing in his scent. He moved his hips as Bucky gasped and gripped the sheets tightly beneath him. Steve’s hands wandered all around Bucky as he pushed in him again, creating a steady motion that left Bucky gasping for air and Steve closed his eyes, he kissed Bucky and felt the tension building. 

“Oh Steve, you’ve got me right where you want me.” Bucky mumbled.

Bucky shuttered and came and Steve followed after. Steve slowed and soon he slipped out of Bucky and took off the condom and throwing it in the trash. Bucky turned and gazed up at Steve. Steve sank onto the sheets with Bucky and laid his head on Bucky’s chest. 

“I love you.” Steve whispered, like a sacred secret. 

“So do I.” Bucky said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. 

Steve looked around at him and the look of surprise on his face.

“You do?” Steve asked. 

“’Course I do.” Bucky mumbled, kissing Steve’s forehead, pulling him closer. “’Course I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! There you go. Things just got real between them! I hope you liked this chapter, I wanted to make it more Bucky/Steve centric. I hope the smut was written alright, cause this was my first time dipping my toe into that type of writing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ao3 doesn't allow italics, so I just put the flashback in a portion with dashes separating them. Also, sorry about the spacing. I had trouble with it in this chapter. It should be back to normal by the next chapter. 
> 
> Just FYI
> 
> ENJOY!!

Sam Wilson knew there was something going on between Steve and Bucky, something more than just your average friendship. Sam had figured it out before he saw the two of them kissing.  
After they had checked into the hotel, Sam collapsed onto his bed, listening to the wonderful silence of an empty room. For the first time in what felt like a year, Sam heard the silence. He sighed and covered his eyes, visions flashing beneath his eyelids. 

\---------------  
He remembered them pulling Steve off of the shore, his body limp and plugged full of bullets. He had rode to the hospital with Steve, the SHIELD doctors bustling around him.  
“Fury will have our heads if Captain America dies.” One of the paramedics whispered,  
“God help us all if he does.” The other mumbled back.  
“How the hell didn’t he drown anyway?” They asked Sam.  
Sam shrugged, “Someone must have pulled him out of the water.”  
The first paramedic mumbled, “We need to get the water out of his lungs, super-solider or not, his lungs are still filled.”  
“I’ll clean the bullet wound while you work on pumping his chest.”  
Sam watched them work, feeling the ambulance sway as it sped along the motorway.  
They pilled out of the ambulance ten minutes later and Sam walked with them as far as surgery.  
“You better hope he doesn’t wake up.” Came a voice from behind Sam. Sam turned to see Natasha gazing at the group wheeling Steve away on a stretcher.  
“Wake up?” Sam turned to her.  
“Yeah, last time the Avengers were in battle Steve got hit pretty hard, SHIELD took him into surgery and he woke up half way thought the operation.”  
“He couldn’t stay under?” Sam gasped, looking horrified.  
“Not for long enough.”  
They fell silent and Natasha gazed at him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was disheveled and she breathed heavily.  
“Are you alright?” Sam asked her.  
“Fine, just got a bit of a shock, that’s all. He’ll be fine.” She added in response to his anxious glances back to surgery.  
“Yeah, but if he can’t get morphine or anything, he’s gonna be in a world of hurt.”  
“He’ll survive. He always does.”  
Sam chuckled dryly, nodding in agreement.  
“I’ve gotta get back. Fury wants to send me god knows where and I’ve gotta talk him down. Call me when he wakes up, alright?” Natasha said.  
Sam nodded and bid her goodbye. He sank into a chair and waited for the doctors. It only took around a half hour before a doctor, looking tired but happy approached him.  
“Captain Rogers is going to be just fine. We’ve placed him in the ICU if you want to stay with him.”  
Sam nodded in agreement and they headed over to the ICU. They had Steve hooked onto an IV and into a thin hospital gown. Sam had never seem him looking so venerable. He sighed and thanked the doctor. He left and Sam pulled up a chair, throwing his friend glances every few moments, listening to his breathing, heavy and slow in the silence of the room. The quiet seemed to press in on him so Sam pulled out his bag, grabbing his iPod and speakers and placing them atop the desk. He plugged in the speakers and iPod, letting Marin Gaye’s smooth voice fill the room. Sam smiled, pulling out a magazine. He leafed through it until he heard a groggy voice say from his side,  
“On your left.” 

\----------------- 

Sam lifted his head and looked around the empty hotel room. He blinked away the memories and still fully clothed, he drifted off to sleep.  
A sharp rapping on the door awoke Sam. He jumped up and pulled it open. Steve stood in the doorway, wearing his brown leather jacket and a lopsided grin.  
“Buck and I were gonna get some food. Want to join us?”  
Sam yawned widely and glanced at Steve.  
“You look perky this morning.” He mumbled, “Someone get lucky last night?” Sam teased, punching Steve on the shoulder. To his surprise, Steve’s cheeks turned bright pink. Sam’s mouth dropped open.  
“You didn’t?” Sam asked, a smile creeping up his face.  
Steve coughed and ducked his head, “We’re not. It’s not like that, I’m not-“  
“Hey, you don’t have to pretend. I don’t care what, or should I say, who you do.”  
Steve huffed and glanced back to their room.  
“So things are going well then?” Sam asked, “Is he remembering more?”  
Steve nodded and grinned slightly, “But, don’t tell him that you know. No one should know anyway.”  
“Know what? That you’re in love with your best friend. Isn’t that how love is supposed to work?” Sam asked.  
Steve hushed him, glancing around nervously.  
“Don’t you understand, if word got out that Captain America is queer, the press would have a field day.”  
Sam snorted, “The term is gay now, friend. And you don’t have to hide this.”  
“Like hell I don’t.” Steve replied, “I’ve always had to, but don’t worry Buck and I are good at it-“ Steve stopped talking abruptly, his face turning red again. “Sorry.” He mumbled.  
Sam shook his head, “Hey Cap. It’s fine. Times have changed.”  
“Doesn’t feel like it. I’m still fighting the same people I gave my life to defeat before I went down. And you know just as well as I do that in my time it was illegal to be queer. My ma was real religious and if she ever found out that-“  
“She would have loved you just as much. You’re mom seemed like a pretty cool lady, as did all of those people in the howling commandos. And Agent Carter.”  
Steve’s face softened at the mention of Peggy’s name.  
“I loved her too though.” Steve mumbled, “I loved them both.”  
Sam grinned at him and said, “We’ll you’ve got one ‘em back, now.”  
Steve nodded and then coughed uncomfortably. “Still. Don’t tell anyone just yet. I wanna be able to talk to Buck before-“ The door beside them opened and Bucky stepped out, his hair dripping over his long face. He wore a black jacket that bulged slightly at the arm with green army pants.  
“Are we going?” He asked them.  
“Yeah just give me a minute.” Sam told them, heading back inside.  
“We’ll be back to check out later right?” Sam called to the two of them.  
“Yeah.” They called back.  
Sam grabbed a coat and headed out with them. They walked down the small cobblestone road, the sound of the waves tossing against the cliff-face greeted them. The smell of ocean air permeated the morning dew and Sam sank his hands deep into his pockets, feeling the cold wind on his face. They reached a small café and crammed onto a round table inside. There were only two other patrons. Sam ordered breakfast, while Steve and Bucky ordered coffee.  
“You two ever eat?” Sam asked through a mouthful of eggs.  
Steve nodded but replied, “I’m not hungry.”  
“I don’t really feel like getting sick again.” Bucky replied bitterly.  
“Suite yourself.” Sam shrugged, packing his mouth with toast.  
Bucky squinted around the café, his posture stiff, “Something’s not right…”  
The door opened and there was a loud clanging against hardwood.  
“Get down!” Bucky yelled, his eyes wide. He pulled on Sam and Steve’s collars and dragged them under the table, as a massive explosion erupted. Rubble flew everywhere, glass shattered and the tables upended, splintering into pieces.  
Sam’s ears rung and he could feel his skin burning on his arms and legs. His back twinged sharply as Bucky held him down. Steve had shielded them with their table, and it had taken the brunt of the damage. However, they were buried under a large pile of rubble. Sam blinked dust and blood from his eyes, looking around. Steve was pushing rubble off himself and Sam, while Bucky stayed low, trying to get a long pole off his leg.  
“What the-?”  
“Stay quiet.” Bucky whispered.  
Sam fell silent and blinked away dark spots from his eyes. His back throbbed again. Steve removed the rubble and Sam made to stand.  
“I can’t move my legs.” Sam hissed, his heart beating a samba in his chest.  
“C’mon.” Steve bodily carried Sam amid screaming and the running footfalls. Sam heard shouting in German. He blinked around, the cloud of dust obscuring his vision.  
“Spread out. Make sure they’re dead.” Ordered a familiar voice in English, his accent tainted German.  
“Cynbel.” Bucky confirmed, “Lets go.”  
They left what used to be the back of the now demolished shop and sprinted down the road. Steve and ran while the former carried Sam like a baby. Sam sighed and Steve yelled over the sirens,  
“We have to get outta here.”  
“What about our stuff?” Sam asked.  
“No time.” Bucky dismissed.  
“GO, I’ll catch up with you.” And Steve set Sam down behind a large truck and sprinted down the road.  
“WHERE THE HELL IS HE GOING?” Sam yelled while Bucky pulled out two guns from his boots, ran to the nearest car and flung the door off of its hinge.  
“Woah there!” Sam hollered as Bucky practically carried into the car.  
Bullets pinged off the car as Bucky jump-started it. They roared down the street, bullets following their progress.  
A body slammed on top of the hood of the car, cracking the windshield. Bucky aimed his gun but Sam spotted a flash of red and heard another loud thump. Steve had come back, his shield in his hand, knocking off the man on the windshield. He jumped into the passenger seat as Bucky picked up speed.  
“You just had to go back for it, didn’t you?” Bucky sighed.  
“You’ll thank me later.” Steve replied.  
“Where are we going?” Sam yelled, his heart beating wildly.  
“Far away from here.” Steve said, gripping the side of the car as Bucky sped down the highway.  
Sam turned in his seat and felt pain shoot up his legs. He gritted his teeth as he watched a car turn onto the motorway behind them.  
“They’re comin’ up fast.” Sam hollered.  
“We’ll just take a shortcut then.” Bucky muttered. He jerked the wheel and swerved across four lanes to take the nearest exit. Sam watched as their pursuers attempted to follow but were blocked by traffic.  
“Punch it Bucky!” Sam said with a whoop of triumph.  
“Don’t celebrate yet.” Bucky mumbled, his eyes darting across the road. He sped down the street and got back on the motorway.  
“Are we going to the airport?” Sam questioned.  
“Someplace more private than that.” Bucky replied. “I know an old Hydra plane hanger not to far from here. Only two people work up there. These fellas I know are easily fooled but we have to have a plan so listen up.”  
One hour later they arrived at the airplane hanger. It had one runway and a cluster of two or three planes. Bucky nodded to Steve who nodded back. Then Bucky pulled out his gun and aimed it directly as Steve’s face. He took Steve’s shield as well.  
“Out of the car.” Bucky growled, his eyes colder than the air outside. Steve got out of the car with his hands raised just as two men came running over to them, shouldering shot guns.  
“Excuse me, this is private property and-“ The first man stopped talking when he saw Bucky, holding Steve at gunpoint.  
“Are you… is that…” The other man stuttered. Sam craned his neck around the seats of the car, trying to get a view of what was going on. His legs were still refusing to cooperate with him. He listened carefully as Bucky replied.  
“The Winter Solider brings Captain America into custody.”  
The two men looked like they had just been punched in the face. They gaped from Bucky to Steve and back again.  
“I need a plane here in five minutes so I can take him back to Cynbel. Understand?”  
“Y-yes.” The first man stuttered.  
“What about him?” The other asked, jerking his gun toward Sam, still in the car.  
“He was paralyzed in the expulsion, but he is an ally of Captain America. We will take him back to base as well.”  
“What good is he?” The first agent asked, “Why don’t we just kill ‘em?”  
“Hey, that’s a pretty rude thing to say to someone you’ve just met.” Sam called from the car, gritting his teeth in frustration.  
“He worked for SHIELD. He is the Falcon.”  
This seemed to do the trick. Both men nodded in agreement and hurried off to get the plane.  
“Alright.” Bucky mumbled to Sam and Steve, still pointing his gun at the latter, “Steve, get Sam. Lets go.”  
Feeling sufficiently humiliated, Sam let Steve full-body carry him across the hanger towards the jet.  
“You alright?” Steve whispered to him.  
“Peachy.” Sam replied. He tried not to let his mind wander to his uselessly dangling limbs and focus at the problem at hand.  
They reached the plane and the two hydra agents came out of the cockpit.  
“I can’t believe it. We’ve got the real Captain America.” They turned to Steve, whose face was filled with malice.  
“Not so tough are you now, without your pretty shield? Bet you thought you could change your friend. Well that’s a laugh. Once Hydra, always Hydra. You can’t change anyone, Captain, you’re just a useless symbol that brings unnecessary hope into people. Well, once Cynbel is done with you, you wont even have your hope to cling on to. He will take everything that made you who you are and strip it away piece by-“  
“Oh shut the hell up.” Sam yelled, pulling a gun from his jacket pocket and shooting him point-blank. He collapsed just as Bucky turned his gun on the other man and shot him. He fell beside his partner and Bucky shook his head, sighing.  
“They never learn, never monologue to the person you’ve conquered. That’s Hydra 101.”  
They got into the plane and Bucky went into the cockpit, flipping on the controls.  
“I’m closing the doors, stand back.”  
Steve dropped Sam onto the nearest chair where he grunted in pain.  
“Nice shot.” Steve mumbled to him, his face lined with something Sam couldn’t quite place.  
“It’s easier when the target isn’t moving.” Sam replied.  
The plane rose into the air and Steve sat down next to Sam.  
“Do you think they’re really paralyzed?” Sam asked his friend, his voice small.  
“I’m not sure.” Steve’s face lined with worry this time and he replied, “Can you move your toes?”  
“As much as I can give birth.” Sam replied sourly.  
“Well, a buddy of mine lost the feeling in his leg after a shell got him in the back. It could be that.”  
“That’s comforting, thanks.” Sam's stomach churned uncomfortably. “Are you alright?” He added, glancing at Steve.  
“Yeah. The table took most of the shock from the explosion.”  
“How in the hell did they find us that quickly?”  
“That’s what I’m wondering. Hydra is everywhere, so maybe one of their bases spotted us en route to the hotel.” Steve shrugged, his brows creasing with worry.  
“Hey, we got out at least. We’ll get as far away as possible.” Sam reassured him.  
Steve nodded, not looking convinced.  
“I’m going to go talk to Bucky. See if we can get you to a hospital.”  
“No.”  
Steve raised an eyebrow at him.  
“I don’t want to attract too much attention.” Sam added quickly, “Really, Steve. If we can avoid going too public then we should.”  
Steve sighed, “We should at least get out of Europe.”  
Sam nodded in agreement and Steve inclined his head, turned and headed for the cockpit.  
Sam watched him go and his face fell. He poked his right leg attentively and felt the pressure. He sighed in relief. He tried to move his right leg but the attempt was less of a success.  
“Dammit.” Sam mumbled, feeling panic well up in his chest again. He shoved it down and instead pulled the first-aid kit out of the seat underneath him.  
Minutes later Steve came back.  
“Hey, I’ve got a job for ya.” Sam said as he entered.  
“Yeah?”  
“Stick this needle in my arm.”  
Steve flashed him a puzzled look.  
“What?”  
“It says that this is supposed to help the healing of any damaged tissue that is easily curable.  
“What’s in it?”  
“How the hell do I know? All I know is it could get my leg muscles to respond again. C’mon, its worth a try.”  
Steve look unconvinced but nodded.  
“Okay. But I’ve never done anything like this before.”  
“I believe in you.” Sam replied, flashing him a toothy smile.  
Steve chuckled and shook his head. He pulled out the needle and said,  
“Where does it go?”  
“In the vein in my arm.”  
Steve stared at him, “How am I supposed to find that?”  
“Seek and ye shall find.” Sam quibbled, laughing at the expression on Steve’s face.  
Steve took a deep breath and squinted at Sam’s arm.  
“Here?” He asked, prodding the vein.  
“That’s the intended target.”  
Steve shrugged and plunged the needle in. Sam hissed in pain and Steve looked around at him.  
“Did I get it?”  
Sam looked down and saw the vein lying next to the protruding needle.  
“Nope.” He replied, rolling his eyes.  
Steve sighed and took out the needle.  
“Take two.” Sam said.  
“Sam, I don’t think I can do this.”  
“Just try again, Cap. You’re doing great.”  
Steve closed his eyes and opened them, his brow furrowed as he stuck the needle in again.  
“Now?”  
“No.” Sam deadpanned.  
“Damn.” Steve whispered, his face apologetic.  
“It’s alright.”  
“I’m getting Bucky.” Steve said, standing and walking toward the cockpit. Moments later, Bucky returned.  
“Steve’s flyin’ the thing now?” Sam asked him.  
Bucky nodded. He held the needle in his metal hand.  
Sam eyed him wearily. Bucky noticed his expression and said,  
“You don’t trust me, do you?”  
“Not so much, no.” Sam confessed, rubbing a hand over his neck, “Not since you tired to kill us on that bridge.”  
“If it makes you feel any better I didn’t mean to do it.”  
Sam snorted, “Yeah, now I can sleep easy. So you didn’t mean to, you still tried to. You shot Natasha, you practically butchered Steve, and nearly killed me. Doesn’t really help me to trust a dude.”  
Bucky nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”  
Sam resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and looked up at him.  
“Just know this, if you do anything to hurt Steve, and I mean anything, I will personally hunt you down and kill you… slowly.” Sam’s eyes were bright with malice and his tone dark.  
Bucky’s eyebrows shot upward but he nodded, “Got it.”  
“And on that note, ya wanna help me with this.” Sam replied in a mock-cheery voice. Bucky chuckled and sat beside him.  
“I hope your legs heal.” Bucky replied quietly, before sticking the needle into Sam’s arm and pushing the plunger. Sam felt a cold sensation of liquid running through his veins and he shivered.  
“Not your first time doing that, I take it?”  
He shook his head, chuckling darkly.  
“Ya know, I gotta ask.” Sam began, “What changed your mind about Steve? About us?”  
Bucky gazed out the window and said, “He reminded me of what it felt like to be cared for. Steve cares for people unconditionally, and I…"  
he paused, “Steve always trusted me, something that Hydra never did.”  
Sam pulled a face of mock-surprise, “Hydra never trusted you, wow who would have thought.”  
Bucky grinned and ran a hand through his hair, “Steve’s quite the fella.”  
“He thinks pretty highly of you.” Sam replied, “I haven’t seen Steve this happy in a long time.” 

*-*-*-*-*-*

They flew for a few hours, Sam sitting unmoving in his seat. He looked out the window, having nothing to do since they left all of their things in the hotel. He kept his mind off his unmoving legs, focusing instead on the above surroundings. Trouble was, the surroundings weren’t all that enthralling.  
Once Bucky had taken over flying, Steve returned, looking pale and shaky, now he sat beside Sam, his face fixed into a passive look.  
Bucky’s voice called from the cockpit,  
“We’re just over the border of France. Maybe now is a good time to talk about where we want to park it.”  
“Right.” Steve and Sam said together.  
Sam made to push himself up and his legs complied. He stood shakily and he gasped.  
Steve gaped at him.  
“I can walk!” Sam shouted, taking a step forward and stumbling. Steve caught him and grinned.  
“That’s great.”  
Sam cackled and yelled into the cockpit,  
“I can walk!”  
“Temporary Paralysis. Not that it isn’t great and all, but maybe you two can walk your asses in here.”  
Sam glanced at Steve who grinned and they entered the cockpit. Sam felt lightheaded with joy.  
“What’da say, Cap?” Bucky asked Steve, “Where are we going?”  
“Back home.”  
The two looked at him; shock plain on their faces.  
“Home? As in New York, USA home?” Sam asked.  
“Yeah. I mean, New York has got the Avengers, Hydra wont dare get us when we’re in New York.”  
“Yeah, and where I am supposed to go?” Bucky asked him, affronted.  
“Well…” Steve’s cheeks reddened. “I thought you could come and live with us in the tower.”  
Bucky snorted incredulously.  
“No, Buck, I mean it.”  
“I know you do, but it seems like you should ask your parents permission before inviting a boy home for dinner.” Bucky replied.  
Steve glanced at Sam, who rolled his eyes.  
“They aren’t the boss of me.”  
“None of them will trust me.” Bucky retorted, “I tried to kill Romanaf the first time I met her.”  
“What about Barton? He’s already worked with you, he can convince Natasha.” Steve implored.  
Sam didn’t voice it, but he doubted that the Black Widow could be convinced of anything before believing it herself.  
“And Banner will accept you.” Steve plowed on, “Plus Stark doesn’t really get along with anyone who isn’t himself, so…”  
“I don’t know…” Bucky said, looking unconvinced.  
“You could try it out for a while.” Sam suggested, shrugging, “Even I can learn to trust you.” He and Bucky shared a quick glance before Bucky nodded.  
“If you say so. Home it is.” Bucky replied.  
“I’ll take over for a bit, but like I said, I’m hell at landing these things.” Sam told them. Bucky nodded gratefully and clapped him on the shoulder.  
“Don’t do anything stupid, and call me if you run into any trouble.” Bucky called over his shoulder.  
“You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Sam called back. He saw Bucky and Steve share a meaningful look before walking out of sight, laughing lightly.  
Sam settled down in the pilots seat, flicking a few switches.  
He flew south, cutting through low-hanging clouds and his mind drifted lazily. Hours passed by slowly, the clouds changing hues as the hours crawled along.  
The council flashed at him and crackling static filled the cockpit.  
“Incoming… standby… position…” A garbled voice filtered through.  
Sam picked up the intercom and spoke, “Can you repeat? Who is this?”  
Static crackled and a voice came through, “This is the Washington Centre… traffic… control… Baltimore Washington International air traffic…. Identify.”  
“Hey guys, you better get in here.” Sam called.  
Steve and Bucky walked into the cockpit breathing hard. Steve’s hair was ruffled. Sam raised an eyebrow at them but chose not to comment.  
“We’ve got a situation. Baltimore Washington International is asking us to identify.”  
“Tell them Captain America is on board.” Bucky suggested.  
“You think that’ll work?” Sam asked, looking to Steve.  
Steve shrugged, “I don’t know. I’ve never tried anything like this.”  
“You mean you’ve never gotten anything by saying you were Captain America?” Sam asked.  
“No. I don’t need to get an advantage like that. I’m just like anyone else.”  
Bucky snorted, “Always the modest one, eh Stevie?”  
Steve’s face turned a shade red.  
“Come in…. identify yourselves.” The voice came in a bit clearer and Sam picked up the intercom.  
“This is a private jet, looking for the all clear to land. Captain America is on board and wishes to land as soon as possible.”  
“Please give an access code for landing.” The voice replied.  
Sam looked to Bucky and Steve, shrugging.  
“Let me talk to ‘em.” Bucky said, pushing Sam out of the way.  
“This is flight 2465, looking for a safe landing. Our access code is 122514751819.”  
“Ah yes. Thank you. You are clear for landing.”  
Sam gazed at Bucky.  
“How did you do that?”  
“As long as you know the right codes…”  
“How do you know that code?” Steve asked him, a look of suspicion crossing his face.  
“I worked for Hydra. We knew every one of SHIELD’s codes.”  
Steve shook his head, “Still can’t believe Hydra has been inside the whole time.”  
“I couldn’t believe SHIELD never noticed.” Bucky replied.  
Sam looked from Bucky to Sam, “What’s so important about that code?”  
“It’s a code the avengers use for out-of-country missions.” Steve said.  
“And Washington just knows about that?”  
“Yeah. It was SHIELD protocol for a while.”  
“You two better buckle in, we’re going in for landing.”  
They touched down ten minutes later and Bucky told them to wait while he checked to see if they were followed. He came back, giving them the all-clear. They exited the plane into weak sunlight. They had landed on a private hanger a mile from the airport.  
“I’ll get us a car.” Sam said, “Wait here.”  
“Let me go with you.” Bucky replied. Sam shot him a look of surprise but nodded and the two of them set off.  
“I’m worried about Steve.” Bucky began.  
“What’da mean?” Sam asked.  
“He gets in his head and he just looks really miserable.” Bucky grunted, not looking at Sam.  
“Yeah, well he’s been though a lot.” Sam said.  
“How did he seem through the whole Hydra ordeal.”  
“You know how Steve is, the strong silent type. He keeps a stiff upper-lip about everything. But after you saved him from the water, he was real quiet for a while. I think he just needs time to work things through.”  
Bucky nodded thoughtfully, “But what about after he took over flying? He seemed really shaken up.”  
“Well he did fly a plane into the Atlantic.” Sam replied, “He probably doesn’t like flying now.”  
Bucky agreed, “They told me about that, when I finished a mission. They told me he went down. And I didn’t feel anything…” A look of disgust crossed his face, “I was just happy that the asset was out of the way.”  
“Com’on man, it’s not your fault.”  
Bucky shrugged, then stopped dead, his face loosing colour.  
“What’s wrong?”  
He clutched at his stomach and ran to the end of the landing strip, throwing up everywhere.  
Sam trotted over to him as he began dry heaving. He tentatively touched his back.  
“Hey- it’s alright man.”  
Bucky shook violently as he straightened up. Sam looked upon him, worried.  
“You okay?”  
Bucky didn’t respond but walked on ahead. Sam sighed and followed him.  
They got a car from the dealership nearby and drove back to pick up Steve. He grabbed his shield and got in.  
“I just talked to Stark, they’re done with their mission and are all back at the tower. We can grab a plane back to New York if you want to now. But we better take a real plane, not the Hydra one.”  
They drove to the airport entrance and Bucky and Steve got out.  
“Then this is where I leave you.” Sam told them. He stood and patted Bucky on the shoulder.  
“Take care.” He said, shaking his hand.  
Bucky nodded to him.  
He turned to Steve and he pulled Sam into a hug, “Thanks for everything.” He said, letting go and shaking his hand.  
“Any time. And listen, next party Stark has, be sure to make him invite me. And let me know how you like the Avengers, Bucky.” Sam added with a grin to the Winter Solider.  
He smirked and they waved. Sam got into the car and drove off, looking forward to a long nights rest.  
Two days later, Sam hoped out of the shower to hear his phone ringing. He ran and picked it up.  
“Hello?”  
“Falcon? This is Tony Stark.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows, “Iron Man? Calling me?”  
“Yeah.” His voice sounded tight and worried.  
“What’s up?”  
“It’s Steve. He told me he was bringing his friend back to the tower… but they never showed up.”  
“You mean they aren’t in New York?”  
“I haven’t heard from them since we talked two days ago.”  
Sam’s brow creased with worry.  
“Nothing?”  
“Nothing. They’re just gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a sort of transition chapter but I needed them to get back to New York before everything goes down. I wont say anymore lest I spoil it, but there you are!  
> I hope you liked a chapter from Sam's perspective. It was really fun writing for him. 
> 
> Also, the code that Bucky used to get into Washington was a shift cipher, where the numbers simply shift over to correlate with the letters. 
> 
> Unfortunately, I won't be posting the next chapter for a long time because I am swamped with finals and other projects, but hopefully in the next month I will be able to get it written and posted. Stay with me, this story is about to vamp up 10 notches. 
> 
> Your feedback is always wanted!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nobody wanted your dance,  
> Nobody wanted your strange glitter, your floundering  
> Drowning life and your effort to save yourself,  
> Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil,  
> Looking for something to give.”  
> ― Ted Hughes, Birthday Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have trouble reading violence, please be careful reading this chapter, its pretty gory. Good luck!

Everything was blurred. Steve opened his eyes and saw glimpses of shadows, in a haze. Colours were distorted in the odd light above him. He heard a low moaning beside him and his head snapped around, causing his vision to swim. 

He closed his eyes momentarily to stop his head from spinning in circles. When he opened them once more his vision came into sharper focus. Bucky lay beside him, a deep gash running along his forehead, blood trailing down his face and into his eyes.

“Buck-“

“Ah, Captain.” Came a familiar voice from the darkness, “You’re awake.”

Steve looked around and saw Cynbel, grinning malevolently at him. 

“You-“ Steve began.

“Hush, Captain. Save your breath. I promise you, you’ll need it later.” 

Steve tore his eyes from Cynbel’s face and looked back at Bucky.

“Are you alright?”

Bucky merely nodded, his face pale. 

Steve checked his surroundings. The room had a high, concrete ceiling, an overlooking observation room and many panels covering the walls. In the middle of the room stood a metal table and a moving tray full of instruments.

Steve felt a jolt of shock as he recognized the room. He made to stand but felt his limbs give way under him and he hit the ground again.  
“Ah yes, I see you’ve discovered the effects of this lovely concoction. I procured it from SHIELD, I believe Bruce Banner helped create it. It was supposed to help keep you asleep during surgeries. Looks as though it is quite effective. My men shot you with a dart full of it and knocked you right out.”   
Steve looked down at his arm to see an IV poking through it, covered by a wad of gauze.

“I wouldn’t try taking it out.” Cynbel suggested, as Steve made to do so, “Some of the remarkable Hydra scientists made a… erm… small improvement, so you will die without it. The IV is slowly draining the water from your body and replacing it with our new and improved serum. But remove it, and you’re body will loose more water than it can give back and it will shut your kidneys down. We don’t want that, now do we?”

Steve glanced at Bucky who blanched. 

“What do you want from us?” Steve spat. 

“Want? Captain Rogers, it’s simple. I want to tear down a symbol that has been a thorn in Hydra’s paw since 1942. I want to see you destroyed once and for all. Is that too much to ask?”

“A bit.” Bucky hissed, “And you won’t be able to do it. Even if you take down Captain America, there is no way of destroying Steve Rogers.”

“Oh how devoted you two are to one another. I’ve been watching from afar, it’s really quite the love story, you two. A perverted one, I may say, but touching all the same.”

As Cynbel spoke a group of burly men walked down the stairs from the observation room. They made their way toward Steve, picking him up by the arms and hoisting him into the air. Steve landed a punch to the first man’s jaw and felt it crack under his knuckles, but the single act rendered Steve’s arms spent. The little energy that had remained drained from his body. He went limp and could do nothing but allow the men to heave him onto the table and strap him down by his ankles, wrists, and chest.

“Get off of him.” Bucky made to stand but Cynbel was quicker, he pulled out a pocketknife and held it to Steve’s throat.

“Make one move to help him, solider, and he dies.”

Steve pushed away the molten panic bubbling in his stomach and snorted, “Well, that’s original.”

“Tie him down.” Cynbel ordered, pressing his knife deeper against Steve’s throat. The large men picked Bucky up and tied him to a chair, handcuffing his hands together. 

“Come on Buck,” Steve whispered, blood pooling slightly from the knife wound, “Fight back.”

Bucky shook his head, a somber expression clouding his eyes. 

“He is just as devoted to you as you are to him. This is good to know.” Cynbel simpered, grinning at the pair of them.

He took the knife away and Steve struggled to free himself, his arms flopping feebly.

“Those restraints are steel enforced, as are the handcuffs,” He added to Bucky, “Captain, in your weakened state I wouldn’t suggest trying to get out of them.”

“You really thought of everything.” Steve remarked trying to keep his tone light but the growl in his voice gave him away.

“When it comes to Captain America, we take every precaution. We learned are lesson from the first time.” He picked up a larger knife from the table. “Oh and did I mention that the lovely serum,” He gestured to the IV poking out of Steve’s arm, “also depletes your immune system if used over a long period of time? Doctor Banner created it for a few hours use at most, to keep you under. In this dosage, when it’s constantly administered, it can stop the healing factor right in it’s tracks.”

Bucky practically growled from the corner. 

“We gave the Winter Solider a similar dosage so he can’t fight back, and short circuited his arm as well. To, shall I say, keep the dog leased.”

“You’ll pay for this.” Bucky spat, his eyes no longer looking like the kind man Steve had known in his youth, but the killer he had met on that bridge.

“Oh I’m sure I will.” Cynbel simpered, “For the meantime, I bet you have guessed by now where we are, Captain Rogers.”

“Brooklyn.” Steve said through gritted teeth, “Where I was given the serum.”

“Very good! They closed it down years ago, but I’ve read all about it. I have some of Hydra’s best agents, besides the Winter Solider,” His eyes fell on Bucky, “guarding the entrances and exits, … But no matter- this setup is for you Captain. I thought how fitting. The place where the symbol was born would be where he dies.” 

The knife in his hand slashed through the air and cut Steve across the chest. Pain like fire burned through him, as more gashes followed the first. Blood pooled from his shirt, staining it. Steve’s vision blurred, and his blood rushed through his ears Bucky was shouting curses as Steve yelled. 

Cynbel chucked and put the knife down. “I’ve got all day.” 

 

*-*-*-*-*-*

 

The pain dulled slightly. Steve opened his eyes, blinking away the jagged shapes and lights above him. He saw Bucky, struggling against his bonds with his one good arm, the metal one hanging loosely at his side.

“Captain Rogers,” Came a falsely soothing voice, “You cannot pass out. We have so much work for you.”

Steve dimly felt his IV bag shifting and squinted up at the bright lights. 

“I’m taking the dosage down a bit, so you can feel the pain more, but not be able to do anything about it. There.” He finished as Steve looked down at his chest. The strap was soaked in blood, as was his shirt. The soft ‘drip drip’ of blood seemed illuminated in the chilling silence. Steve felt a shutter shake his body and his eyes met Bucky’s.

“Hang in there. I’m gonna get you outta this, punk.” 

Steve grinned lopsidedly at his old nickname and nodded. 

“Gentlemen.” Cynbel called, “Kindly move the Captain to the observation room. I want him to have a good view.”

“No.” Steve replied, his voice hoarse, “No, keep hurting me. Hell, kill me. Don’t hurt him.”

“But don’t you see, Mr. Rogers? I hurt you when I hurt him. Now take him.” 

The men untied Steve and knowing it was his only chance, he lunged. He managed to knock the first man out but the other two grabbed his arms and the fourth man began punching him in the stomach.

“Get your hands off of him.” Bucky yelled, breaking free of the bonds around his legs and kicking forward. He knocked one man out and Steve shook loose of another’s grip on his arm. He felt the IV tug painfully as he grabbed the first thing he saw from the side table full of instruments. It was a gun. He aimed it directly at Cynbel but a yell behind him stopped him.

“Drop it or he dies!” 

Steve turned on the spot and saw the last security guard with a gun pressed against Bucky’s temple.

“Steve don’t you dare-“ Bucky began but Steve fell to his knees, his legs stopped responding to him. The gun clattered from his hand and Cynbel began clapping slowly, while the two guards got up from the ground and pulled Steve to his feet. 

 

He looked down at his chest and noticed that Cynbel was right, he wasn’t healing like he normally would. A feeling of foreboding filled him as the men dragged him from the room; one carrying the IV bag along with them. They went up the stairs and shoved Steve into a seat in the front room. Steve grunted in pain as they tied his wrists to the chair. He watched as the men downstairs struggled to force Bucky onto the table.

Steve’s head spun as he watched them tie his friend down and Cynbel began to dig a knife into him. 

Bucky didn’t make a sound. Steve felt a chill crawl up his spine as he saw Bucky’s face, stone cold and expressionless as Cynbel slashed, hit, and dug into his skin.   
Steve began yelling, fighting the restraints the best his weak muscles could. Bucky’s face only hinted at pain with a squint in his eyes or a twitch of a muscle in his face. Steve yelled until his throat was raw. Cynbel didn’t let up until he cracked down on Bucky’s legs with a large hammer. Bucky let out a scream and Steve could hear the cracking of bone. The men untied Steve and dragged him back down the stairs.

“Buck… Buck…” 

Cynbel took the straps off and pushed Bucky off the table where he hit the floor with a crunch. Steve tried to shake from their grip but exhaustion was taking over his body once more.

“Bucky, please. Live. Live for me. We got a second chance at life, don’t you dare take that away from us. James Buchanan Barns, you will not die here. You will not. You can’t give me your life back just to take it away from me again. Please, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered and he moaned.

Steve let out a strangled laugh of relief and made to go to him, but the men hauled him back on the table.

“Please.” Steve said to Cynbel. He saw a flicker of surprise in his captor’s eyes.

“Is Steve Rogers begging me?” 

“When it comes to him,” Steve nodded to Bucky, “I would give you my life to save his.”

“Oh you will give your life, but you won’t save his.” 

 

*-*-*-*-*-*

 

Steve didn’t know how much time had passed, it could have been hours or days; the time wasn’t something that Steve thought about anymore. He measured the time where Cynbel would stop hurting him to the time he started back up again.

Bucky sat hunched against a wall, unable to move. Both of his legs had broken. But he was still alive and that’s all Steve cared about.

Cynbel turned out to be quite skilled with a knife and soon, he could feel the serum begin to weaken his muscles. He could barely move his arms or legs let alone break free of his restraints.

The torturing would cease and Steve would look to Bucky and whisper one thing,

“We’re gonna be alright,” his voice cracked from lack of use.

The nights were the longest, or Steve assumed they were nights, because that’s when they would stop. Bucky whispered things to Steve, so the guard at the door couldn’t hear them.

“Do you remember the time we went to that Fourth of July dance on your birthday?”

“And we danced in the back room?” Steve asked, a smile cracking on his pained face. 

“We could just hear the music coming in from the other room, and the fireworks, boy were they loud.”

Steve could practically see the fireworks alight in Bucky’s eyes, the memories floating back to him.

“What I wouldn’t give to be back to that moment. Just the two of us. Dancing together.” Steve murmured. 

He watched Bucky, who fiddled with his metal arm, tapping a wire repeatedly, in varying increments.

Steve wanted to ask what he was doing but didn’t dare in front of the guard. 

“I bet ya I could still dance better than you even with both of my legs cuput.” Bucky said.

Steve chuckled and broke into a coughing fit, blood bubbling from his mouth as pain seared through his body like electricity. Bucky’s worried gaze met his and they stared at one another.

“We’re gonna be alright. You’ll be dancin’ in no time, Buck.” Steve assured him.

“Both of us will.” Bucky replied and after a moments pause asked, “How’s the pain?” 

“Not so bad now.” Steve replied, “You?”

“Like hell it isn’t.” Bucky scoffed, “But, I got the bleedin’ stopped with my shirt a few hours ago, now it’s just my legs. Feel like they’re goin’ numb.”

“Maybe if I can reach the knife I can cut myself loose.”

“It’s reinforced steel, remember? The straps have metal in ‘em.” 

“Then I’ll take this out.” Steve gestured toward the IV and Bucky moaned,

“Steve, we’ve been over this! You’ll die!”

“We don’t know that for sure, Cynbel could be playing us.” Steve repeated the words to a conversation they had had for four nights now. “You’re gonna bleed out if I don’t do something. Buck- you’ll die…”

“So will you.” Bucky growled, “I’ll come to you. I’ll carry you.”

“You and what legs?” Steve retorted. 

Bucky made to stand but let out a cry of pain, his face going shockingly pale. He began shaking unaccountably and Steve wrestled with his restraints, his arms felt like jello.  
“Buck… please, don’t move.” 

It was the plea in Steve’s voice that stopped Bucky in his attempts to stand. He slumped back to the ground, breathing heavily.

“We’re gonna be alright. I promise.” 

Light footfalls echoed off the silent walls. 

“Well Captain, I thought we’d do something new today.” The voice made Steve jump. It was too soon.

“Get the hell away from him.” Bucky began his daily routine; rattling off insults and threats that Steve was sure would surprise even Natasha Romanof.

“You will die a slow death, Cynbel I am sure of that.” Bucky growled, then he began muttering in German.

He could have spat fire. 

Cynbel flicked on the lights and looked around at the table.

“Well, Captain, I think you have officially lost two pints of blood. And gone through ten IV bags. Congratulations.”

Bucky continued to mumble insults in German, and Cynbel clicked his tongue, “My my, what a mouth your boyfriend has, Captain. He better watch his tongue, or I may just remove it.” 

The men untied Steve, he made to swing his arm out but felt it only flop uselessly at his side. He couldn’t move it. Panic bubbled in his chest as he fought to keep a cool head.

Someone must be looking for us. Steve thought desperately. 

He watched as two men lowered chains from the ceiling with cuffs at the end. They hooked his wrists to the cuffs so his arms dangled above him. Cynbel fingered a small knife lovingly before trailing the knife down Steve’s front, cutting his already torn shirt in two. He pulled what was left of the material away and Steve moaned as the dried blood and fabric pulled at his skin.

“Get the bats.” 

Three of them took turns beating Steve, hitting him across the chest, head, and torso. Steve felt over and over again the repetitious pang that brought nausea and bile to his throat. He bit his lip, trying not to cry out in pain. He felt his ribs crack under him, and his lungs deflated. Even with the IV draining him slowly from life, his metabolism was still better than most, he hung on- fighting through the pain.

“You are a hard man to kill, Captain. I like a challenge.” Cynbel said, his German accent hitched in frustration. “I thought your lungs would have collapsed by now.”   
Through the ice cold, crushing pain, Steve heard Bucky, shouting and yelling and crying for Steve.

“Leave him alone. Take me instead, please. Please.” 

Steve’s head snapped up at the sound of Bucky’s voice crack. 

“We’re gonna be alright.” He whispered, looking at Bucky. Tears streaming down his face and he felt the men unchain him from his bonds. Without any support Steve fell face first to the ground, the IV bag slapping down beside him.

His body racked with uncontrollable tremors. It was like being in the ice again, surrounded by cold and pain. Frigidity surrounded him in all directions, closing in on him with deadly speed. Death was looming, below the surface of the freezing water, waiting to greet him. 

Dying this way was a lot like dying in the ice. Except the ice was quieter. Steve could hear his own heartbeat in the ice, but now- he heard yelling. It wasn’t his own voice, it was someone else’s, someone he knew.

“Please, let me get to him, I just want… to be with him… Please. You’ve already killed him now let me go to him.” Bucky’s pleas seemed to bring Steve’s head above the waters of pain.

Steve had wondered what it would be like to drown, when his plane had gone down. When the water came up to his waist, the chills started to rack his body.  
Now Steve wondered what it would be like to drown in his own blood. There he was, unable to breathe and unbearably cold. Every inch of his body shrieked as cold daggers pierced him.

He took a gasping breath and opened his eyes. Pain accosted him but nothing to what he saw in Bucky. Pure anguish covered Bucky’s tear-strewn face. He was crawling toward Steve, desperate to get to him. No one stopped him and Steve didn’t care what Cynbel or anyone else did, for his soul intent was to get to Bucky. To hold him, to tell him everything was going to be fine. That he would heal and they would go dancing.

Steve began dragging himself toward Bucky, blood trailing behind him. They crawled toward one another, and Steve thought ludicrously of soldiers, crawling through trenches. They were two soldiers, forged by battle. They would go into and out of this world in a glorious fanfare, like the fireworks on The 4th of July. Steve knew that Bucky would have hated the metaphor.

Outstretched hands grasped one another like holding onto a lifeboat as Bucky pulled Steve in the rest of the way and put Steve’s head in his lap.  
“Hush. I’ve got you.” Bucky said, combing Steve’s sweaty hair through his fingers.

Steve’s breaths were becoming more and more laboured as he fought for air. It reminded him of one of his asthma attacks and he laughed softly, even though it hurt like hell.

“J-just like old time, eh?” Steve stuttered.

“I told you I’d always take care of you.” 

Steve had eyes only for Bucky, they were grey in the harsh light around him and they conveyed so much.

“Buck-“

Bucky pushed him unceremoniously out of the way and there was a sound like a whip cracking, ringing through Steve’s eardrums.

Steve looked around and saw Cynbel holding a gun aloft, grinning. 

“That was getting too emotional for me.” He said.

Steve looked down and saw Bucky, lying on his back, a hole in his chest. Blood pooled from him and the first thing Steve thought was that Bucky would drown. He would drown in his own blood as Steve would. Bucky would feel the cold that no one should ever feel, the coldness that only death brought. 

Steve’s mind went blank. He pulled himself toward Bucky, his breath slowly dying in his chest. He looked at Bucky and pulled him close.

“We’re gonna be alright. Okay, jerk? I’m going to get you outta this.” Bucky’s eyes were already flickering close, but Steve shook him, locks of hair falling into his eyes and he looked at the only man he had ever loved.

“Do you remember that time I got beat up real bad outside of the theatre, and you didn’t find me until I was half unconscious? Well you carried me outta there and patched me up yourself. You said to me, ‘you’re gonna be alright punk, I just gotta carry you ‘till you can walk’ well Buck, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m just gonna have to carry you ‘till you’re better. Understand?”

Bucky’s eyes fluttered but he managed a smile, “Its okay Steve cause I’m with you ‘till-“

His breath caught in his throat and the words died. Steve gazed at him, watching the life leave his body.

“The end of the line.” Steve finished for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! But please keep reading, the story has a good ending and things will look up, there just has to be darkness to appreciate the light. 
> 
> Thanks for your comments and kudos, they mean the world to me!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”  
> ― C.S. Lewis

“It’s your fault.” Cynbel whispered to Steve, strapping him back onto the table, “You got him killed. If it wasn’t for you, Mr. Barnes would still be alive.”

Steve stared at Bucky’s body, pooling blood onto the floor. Numbness filled him, the reality had yet to set in and it felt oddly comfortable, feeling nothing. As Cynbel began cutting into Steve again, he didn’t feel it. The physical pain was mild, only a slight irritant. Steve didn’t make a sound, but felt the knife cut deeper into his skin, spilling blood over his arms and legs. The room was chillingly silent, without Bucky’s curses and cries to stop.

The serum pumping into his body had almost drained all of his motor function; he could barely wiggle his toes.

Breathing became difficult when Cynbel stopped and turned off the lights. The night stretched on, and Steve attempted to breathe, each inhale felt like it could be his last. The pain had eclipsed anything identifiable or measurable. Steve grimaced and kept his eyes trailed anywhere but at Bucky.

By the next two days, Steve knew he would die, just as he knew he would when he dove into the ice. He had gotten lucky then, but not this time.

Cynbel resumed his cutting, carving bits and pieces out of Steve and shaping him into someone else. Each time he cut into Steve he whispered,  
“It’s your fault.”

The nights were far worse than the days spent with Cynbel. Because his gaze would wander to Bucky’s lifeless form and he would whisper under his breath,   
“It’s my fault.”

Cynbel would walk in some hours later, pluck up his knife and slit him open again. Steve, barely conscious, felt only the slight twinge of pain. The rest was numbness.  
“Before you die, Steven, I want to you to know this. It is your fault. Your fault that Hydra remained, that Mr. Barnes fell from the train. It was your fault what he turned into, and now you have killed him again, your best friend, your lover. He is dead because of you. It is your fault and you will die for it. Now, I want to hear you say it…”  
The exhaustion, pain, and blood loss wasn’t comparable to the way his mind spun out of control as he said,  
“It’s my fault.”

His voice cracked from lack of use and he felt death descending on him, his heart beating feebly like a reckoning. It pumped in his chest, the only thing trying to keep going, through his useless organs and wheezing lungs. He was sure the only thing that kept him alive this long was the serum that he had gotten in this very room all of those years ago.

 

A massive crash shook the ceiling, sending dust spiraling down on top of Steve.

Cynbel stopped cutting Steve and looked up, fear crossing his face for the first time.

“Go see what it is and take care of it.” He snapped.

The guards ran off, leaving Steve alone with Cynbel. Steve tried to wriggle free of his bonds, but his arms would not longer comply with his brain. They lay limply at his side.

He wanted to cry for help, but no sound came out.

Another crash shook the building, knocking a few panels from the ceiling. Steve, through the haze of pain thought he heard a familiar sound. He must be hallucinating.

His eyes closed until a louder explosion forced them open again, curiosity taking precedent over pain. The door had been blasted apart and Steve saw the telltale glint of gold and red. His heart jumped into his throat as something soared over him, knocking down the tall guards with propulsion blasts. Cynbel looked at Steve, a mad glint crossing his face. He plunged the knife into Steve’s stomach. 

Pain spiraled through him, shaking his whole body as he felt the knife spear his organs, tearing through his already mutilated skin. Air seemed impossible to come by as he heard a terrible yell from overhead. He had never heard Tony Stark yell like that, and it frightened him almost as much as the nerve-wracking pain around him. His eyes fluttered and he saw metal hands reaching toward him and heard him whisper,  
“We’re gonna get you out of here. Come on, Steve, just stay with me, alright?”

Apparently, Tony hadn’t come alone. Just as he said that, Steve heard a crash of lightning and a mighty holler from the roof overhead. The building shook again as he saw an arrow fly past his head, followed by the sound of flapping wings. Sam landed in front of him.

“Jesus.” Sam mumbled helping undo the bonds on Steve’s legs, “They’ve got a lot of Hydra out there, but Natasha and Thor are handling it. Clint is guarding the door.”

“Do you think we need to go code green?” Clint’s voice came from some distance away.

“I think Thor is taking care of it.” Tony yelled back, “He’s angrier than the big guy could ever get. Now Steve,” His voice softened as though talking to someone on their deathbed. Steve supposed he was.  
“Can you walk?”

Steve shook his head just as Sam finished untying his legs.

“Bruce.” Tony added into his comm., flipping open his face panel and flashing Steve an encouraging smile, Steve didn’t have to energy to return it, but focused on his labored breathing, which was becoming increasingly difficult each moment. Tony’s metal hand rested on his shoulder while his other hand began staunching the bleeding.

“Steve’s been stabbed in the stomach, do I take the knife out?”

Steve watched Tony’s face, his eyes fluttering, as Bruce responded.

Steve turned to Sam and grabbed his wrist with his weak arm, “Take his body back, please.” Steve stuttered, coughing up blood.

Sam merely nodded, his face contorted with pain and rage.

“Okay, Steve. I’m gonna have to leave the knife in.” Tony told him, “Clint get down here, I need your help. We don’t really have SHIELD evac anymore, and Thor-“ he said in the comms, “I think we’ll need to carry him out, so when you’re done being mighty or whatever…” Tony trailed off as he looked around.

“I need something to stop all of this bleeding.” He whispered to Sam. Steve watched the two of them search and Clint joined them, tearing off parts of his own shirts and pressing them into the knife wound.

“Jesus he’s lost a lot of blood, look at that.” Tony pointed to the large puddle underneath the table. Steve noticed something from the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Cynbel dash from his hiding place behind a pillar and sprint to the door.

With enormous effort, Steve sat up and wrenched his weak arms forward, grabbing a gun from the side table and aiming it at Cynbel’s retreating back, deaf to Tony and Clint’s protests. Steve’s hoarse voice shouted,  
“Cynbel-“

He turned at the sound of his name and Steve said, “ For Bucky.” He Fired the gun. The bullet hit Cynbel square in the face and sent blood spattering everywhere. 

He fell to the ground, dead.

Steve felt a rush of nausea and went limp, nearly falling off the table. Tony and Clint caught him as Thor came crashing into the room through the blasted door, his hair loose and wild-looking, his eyes filled with fury. Steve, for a flash, saw why people feared the God of Thunder. He wore a look of pure hatred and fury that made him shudder.

Steve’s eyes closed and he choked on his own blood, bubbling out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. His windpipe constricted his breathing and he choked, gasping.

Thor hurried forward, his wild look gone, replaced with concern. Tony was jabbering to him the whole time,  
“It’s alright Steve, you’re gonna be fine. You’ve just gotta walk this one off, there’s nothing to it. You’ve been in worse shape than this, I mean, you were a capsicle for 70 years, this is a walk in the park...” Steve noticed that his metal hands were pressed against the knife, keeping more blood from spilling out.

“You're… gonna… get… your suit… all… b-bloody.” Steve gasped.

“Don’t you worry, I just send it to the dry cleaners, get it right out. Just focus on breathing.”

Steve tried, but each breath felt like a knife across his lungs. Thor gently moved Tony’s hand, with much protesting from the latter.

“Take out whatever this is and get him the hell out of here.” Tony said.

Tony removed Steve’s IV before Steve could even form a protest.

Once the liquid stopped reaching his veins, Steve felt his body turn ice cold. He began shaking and his eyes grew wide.

“What the hell-?” Came Sam’s voice.

“Oh god. It must have been the IV. Thor take it with you, have Bruce identify it. Now go!” 

Thor nodded and said in his comm.,

“Now Lady Natasha!”

There was a crashing blast that tore the roof in two. Rubble rained down on them and Thor shielded Steve with his body. Then angling Mjölnir upward, they flew through the air, cold wind whipped his face, but felt good on his bruised and broken body. The wind tossed his hair about and he closed his eyes, convulsions racking his body. He could feel his organs begin to shut down and tried to tell Thor but he was speaking into the comm., 

“We are traveling to you now, Doctor Banner. Please be ready to assist us, the Captain is gravely injured. I am bringing you a sustenance that seems to be injuring our warrior even more. Meet us on the landing strip with the movable bed.”

The edges of Steve’s brain were encroaching darkness. His eyes closed and his body went limp, Thor flew forward, Steve felt the inevitable curtain of death drawing upon him.

*-*-*-*-*-*-

Bruce Banner watched the sky, his eyes darting back and forth, waiting for any sign of Thor. He heard it before he saw it. A metallic whoosh rented through the windy air and a crash of lightning brought Thor hitting the ground with surprising grace. Bruce rushed forward, and saw Steve in Thor’s arms. He let out a gasp as he looked upon the Captain. His skin was as pale as a sheet, blood oozed from what seemed to be every pore in his body, and a large knife stuck out of his stomach.

“I tried not to jostle him too much on the ride.” Thor commented, and Bruce was concerned to see Thor looking stricken. Thor had never looked at Bruce the way he did now.

“Save him.” Thor whispered, before depositing Steve onto the gurney and Bruce nodded. “And here,” Thor handed him the IV bag, “I think it is depleting him of life.”  
Bruce nodded again and dashed off, talking in his comm.

“Maria. Pepper. Are you ready for me?”

“Everything is sterilized and Doctor Cho just got in, Bruce.” Came Hill’s reply.

“Good. JARVIS, open the elevators to the medical floor.” Bruce felt for Steve’s weak pulse as the elevator doors flew open.

“Medical bay.” JARVIS’s cool voice replied, “There are other SHIELD doctors waiting for your commands as well.”

“Thank you JARVIS.”

“Anytime sir.”

Bruce must have imagined the hint of worry in JARVIS’ voice as the elevator doors opened and Bruce wheeled Steve inside.  
Helen ran forward, her hair tied in a neat bun, Maria Hill and Pepper Pots stood behind her, their faces filled with worry. A dozen or so former SHIELD doctors were filing into the room, bustling around.

“Get him on the table.” Helen ordered, and the four of them lifted Steve onto the surgery table.

“Pepper, Hill, will you help us communicate to the team on Steve’s condition? And you!” Bruce barked to a doctor, “get a sample of this out and have JARVIS analyze it.” Bruce handed her the IV bag and she took it, dashing over to another table in the corner.

Maria and Pepper nodded and left the room.

“We need to get his pulse back.” Helen said, hooking him up to a heart monitor. It began beeping incisively.

“Get that knife out.” Bruce added, working around her, “Grab the gauze so we can pack the wound. I’ll start an IV. His kidneys are shutting down at a fast rate, we need to get it back up. Hell, I don’t know what’s causing it.”

“Sir.” JARVIS’s voice rang out, “I think I have an answer to that. This substance that they injected Captain Rogers with is affiliated with your serum, but is altered. It appears to be causing a water and sugar deficiency. He was depending on it during his capture and they have drained his body of 65% of his needed body water and sugar count. You must replenish it fast enough that his higher metabolism will consider it a helpful dosage, and not harmful that his body would reject.”

Helen looked at Bruce.

“We’ve got to get at least two IVs of sugar water into him, quickly.” Helen said, the doctors dashing around the room, collecting IV bags.   
“And make sure it keeps up with the serum’s fast pace metabolism.” Bruce added, “Alright folks, we’re in for a long night.” 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Natasha jumped down from the newly created hole in the roof and gazed around at the half-destroyed room. She saw a man lying on the ground, with the face half-blown apart.

“Who did this?” Natasha asked the group at large. The men turned to look at her and Clint replied,  
“Steve.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows at Clint.

“He… blew his face off?”

He nodded.

“Thor, is he with Bruce?” Natasha asked into the comm..

“The Captain is with Doctor Banner and now I will fly back and assist you.”

“No need.” Clint said, “We’ve got cleanup here and there’s already a crowd outside who saw you blast off the roof. Hopefully no one caught any footage.”

Natasha stopped listening, she had just spotted a body lying on the ground beside Sam.

She stepped forward and let out a small gasp, confirming the worst.

“Oh Steve…”

Bucky’s form looked broken on the ground, blood spilling from a bullet to the chest. She bent down and gently touched his face, noticing that the body was beginning to smell– he mush have been dead a while. 

“Steve wanted us to bring him back to the tower.” Sam mumbled, blinking back moisture from his eyes. “He was a good guy.”

“Yeah. He was.” Natasha agreed, “We should get a Stark car down here to pick him up. It will cause less of a commotion from our friendly onlookers. What do you say, Stark?”

It was then that Natasha noticed the absence of Tony’s usually very present voice in the conversation. She looked over at the red and gold suited figure, who was leaning against a nearby wall.

“Tony?” Natasha asked, approaching him. He had his faceplate down and his head bent. A choked voice came through the metallic suit, slightly distorted.

“I was holding his intestines in.” He stated, his voice cracked, “I was actually holding them in like god dammed stuffing in a teddy bear.”

Natasha closed her eyes and put a tentative hand on Tony’s shoulder. Frankly, dealing with an emotional Tony was far down on her list of expertise.

“He’ll be alright.” Natasha replied.

Tony opened his faceplate and Natasha saw tears lingering in his eyes.

“What if we didn’t get to him in time?”

“We did. He’ll be fine.” Natasha repeated, “We picked up the SOS call, we got to him in time.” 

But not enough time to save the love of his life, Natasha thought bitterly.

Tony was trembling slightly and Natasha led him to a nearby chair and sat him down.

She crouched down next to him, and leaned against the wall. They fell silent and Clint’s voice filled the room, a soft hum. He called a Stark car down for Bucky’s body. 

Tony and Natasha sat in silence, his metal hand closed around her’s, waiting for some news from Bruce. 

The car arrived around ten minutes later, pulling around the back of the old store, in the alley. Together, the four of them carried Bucky’s body, laying it gently in the back of the car. Happy, Tony’s security guard, drove in the front.

“Clint, why don’t you catch a ride back?” Natasha suggested, “Tony and Sam can fly and one of them can take me.”

Clint nodded and Sam tapped on the top of the car, saying,  
“Drive carefully.”

The car sped off and the three of them looked at one another.

“Well…” Sam began, “Should we face the press?”

“Rather not.” Tony stated, before launching into the air and out of sight.

“Did he just…” Sam sighed, “Okay, looks like I’m taking you back to the tower.”

The wind whipped around her as they launched into the air, Sam’s powerful wings cutting through the wind as they climbed higher.  
“You know,” Sam yelled over the whooshing wind, “You’re a lot lighter than Steve.”

“I didn’t eat breakfast.” Natasha replied, a smirk crossing her face.

Sam’s feet touched ground at Stark Tower and Natasha hopped out of his grip.

“Lets go check on Steve.” Sam said.

“I don’t think we should disturb them right now. Bruce may just Hulk out on us if we do.” Natasha cautioned.

“He’s going to be alright though, right?” Sam’s voice was dangerously close to cracking.

“Dr. Cho and Banner are working on him, not to mention a dozen other former SHIELD doctors.” Natasha said, but didn’t answer his question.

They headed inside, greeted by a great deal of shouting.

“Can anyone tell us what the hell is going on? We don’t even know if he died, you won’t tell us anything.”

“Tony, please. Maria and I are going in for regular updates, they told us that his body has to get back a lot of blood and water. His heart gave out twice on the table, but I think they have him in actual surgery now, so we can’t go in for anymore updates.” Pepper said.

“We need to know something!” Tony shouted. His suit was gone and he glared at them angrily.

“They’re doing the best they can. Please Tony, sit down. You’re bleeding.” Pepper pleaded.

Only Pepper Pots could make Tony listen, for he sat down on the edge of the long couch. Pepper pulled out a first aid kit while Maria walked toward them.

“Hill.” Natasha nodded to her, “How does he look?”

“Not good.” Maria replied.

Natasha appreciated Hill’s unending honesty but it stung.

“He lost so much blood. Did you get the guys who did it?”

“Yeah. It was a Hydra team, and Steve killed their leader. Steve and I met him when we were on a mission to find… the Winter Soldier… His name was Cynbel.” Sam replied, his teeth gritted.

“I’ll look him up, see if he had any allies who might want to finish the job.” Natasha replied. She desperately needed something to do; this endless waiting slowly drove her insane. 

She heard Hill ask Sam about Bucky before heading off to one of Tony’s many computers on the floor. The lab was located above the lounge, and Natasha sat in the lounge, using a computer by the bar. It seemed like ages ago that they had all sat in here, watching movies and laughing. She blinked and steadied her trembling hands. She tried not to think of Steve, bleeding out on a cold table, being endlessly tortured for information or satisfaction. Natasha had been both the torturer and the victim, and knew what it felt like be bathed in blood.

As she searched Cynbel in the database, she was only half-reading the words. Her mind wandered.

 

____

She stood in a small room, dirt covered the floors and left scuff marks from the many feet that had tread there. She held a knife in her hands, blood dripped off the end and splashed on the floor. Natasha watched the man on the table, her gaze cold.

“P-please. I don’t know anything.”

Her knife slashed through the air and came down on the man, tied to the chair. Blood sprayed everywhere, spewing from his chest.  
“Where is he?” Natasha growled.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t lie.” Natasha hissed, slashing open more gashes into him, as he slowly bled out in front of her.

“P-please. I never learned anything, I was only the deliver.” His voice trembled with pain and fear.

“You’re right. You don’t know anything.” She sliced his throat open, and dropped the knife on the dust-strewn floor, walking out without a backward glance.

\--------

 

Natasha broke from her revere and squinted at the screen. She printed out Cynbel’s information, including contacts, history, and his work with Hydra. She looked through the SHIELD database for the serum. Coming up with Bruce’s serum for Steve, she printed it out and returned to the main room.

Tony was pacing, while Pepper’s eyes followed him anxiously. Hill was still talking with Sam, and Thor stood with his back to them, facing the goings on in the lab.   
There was a crashing bang from the landing pad outside. Pulling her gun, as quick as lightning, she dashed to the entrance. Kicking open the glass door, she saw a man removing a silver suit of armor.

“Rhodey.” Natasha sighed, putting down her gun.

“Quite the welcome party…” Rhodey remarked, his eyes wide.

Natasha turned around to see Tony, his fists clenched, Sam and Hill both held guns aloft, and Thor with his hammer at the ready.

“Sorry Rhodey, we expected someone a bit more hostile.” Hill stated, holstering her gun. They all walked back inside and Tony walked toward him.

“Who called you?”

“I heard it on the news.”

“Already?” Sam inquired.

“See for yourself.” Rhodey snatched a remote from a glass coffee table and turned on the TV.

“And there seems to be some disturbance in Brooklyn today,” A reporter began, “Members of the Avengers were spotted converging on an old run-down building. Eyewitnesses at the scene claimed to have spotted Iron Man blasting through the building and Thor, The God of Thunder, flying out of the building mere minutes later, carrying what appeared to be a body, that we have now confirmed to be the body of Captain America.”

The TV flashed to a young woman, her face stricken and tearful, “I saw it happen. Black Widow and Thor were on the roof fighting somebody and Thor went inside, he blasted through the ceiling carrying Captain America. I… I… don’t know what’s happened to him, but if he really is… then I don’t know what we’ll do.”

They flashed footage of Thor, hammer angled at the sky, blasting from the building, the distinct form of Steve in his arms as he flew out of sight.

The reporter began speaking again, “Sources have not confirmed whether or not Captain America is dead, but we are attempting to collect more information. Reporters on sight are heading to the Avengers tower now to see if they can get a glimpse of what is going on with the Avengers. Has the symbol of hope, that has survived for so many years, finally been snuffed out? More news at 10.”

“Turn that damn thing off.” Tony said, his voice trembling. Natasha looked at him, his face was livid.

“JARVIS,” Tony added, “Go on lockdown. Don’t let anyone in or out of the building unless they have a level 4 clearance or higher, you got it? I don’t want more rumors getting out. Maybe I’ll go and talk to them myself, give them a piece of my-“

“Tony.” Pepper put a steadying hand on his shoulder, “Lets not do anything rash-“

“Anything rash, Pepper, they are already tearing the truth apart and I need to put a stop to this.”

“Steve would want you to keep a cool head, he would want you to stay here, not get involved.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s already dead, Pepper.”

“I’m not!” Pepper gasped, “I’m just saying, we need to be here to support Steve. Not out there, chewing up the press.”

“She’s right.” Natasha said, folding her arms over her chest, “It won’t do Steve any good.”

“And we’re doing good right now, waiting here? While Banner and Cho put humpty dumpty back together again?”

“We’re doing what we can do, and that’s waiting.” Hill remarked, “There are no threats to Steve but his own body right now.”

“Like hell there isn’t.” Said a voice from the door.

Natasha turned and saw Clint walking toward them, “I just got back with Happy, and the press is everywhere. They nearly bit my head off trying to get information. I told them to fuck off.” 

“On live TV?” Natasha rolled her eyes, “Good work, Clint. You are the new face of the Avengers, a giant middle finger.” 

“They deserved it. They’re like a pack of vultures out there.”

“Did you get the car in alright?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah, Happy nearly ran over a news reporter parking but the windows are tinted so I’m pretty sure they didn’t see…” Clint’s voice faltered and his face went dark, “We don’t know what to do with the body.”

They all stared at one another, their expressions lost.

“We should bring him inside, I’ve got plenty of extra rooms that we can put him in, until Steve decides if… he wants a funeral.” Tony said. 

They fell into a heavy silence.

“Poor Steve.” Natasha muttered, “They must have killed him in front of him.”

“And I thought he had gotten a second chance with Bucky.” Sam added.

Rhodey looked around at them all, “Anyone want to tell me who the hell died?”

 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Helen Cho wiped her sweaty brow with the back of a gloved hand, stained with blood.

“It’s a mess in here, the knife cut through his kidney and part of his small intestine. He's bleeding into his stomach. None of the wounds hit his spinal chord but there’s one nasty one that could affect his left leg. Lets stop the bleeding in the kidney and work our way through to the small intestine.” She said through her white mask.

The SHIELD surgeons nodded and began packing the wound while Cho sutured it. Bruce held an oxygen mask over Steve’s mouth, gazing at the monitors for any drop in heart rate.

“Blood pressure?” Cho asked him.

“Still 80/60.” Bruce commented.

The slow beeping of the heart monitor increased rapidly, until he began to flat line.

“He’s crashing again.” Bruce announced.

“Get the chargers ready.”

It took three minutes, five shocks, and four shots of adrenalin to restart his heart. Bruce let out a heaving sigh of relief, pumping more oxygen into his lungs.

“That’s the 3rd time we’ve had to do that.” Cho commented, “anymore and it will do serious damage to his body.”

“I know.” Bruce mumbled, “Hopefully we can get him closed up soon and start him on medication.”

“What kind of medication would work on him?” Cho asked, “I haven’t studied his metabolism before.”

“JARVIS has been working on identifying the elements of the IV they had him hooked to, and it looks like it stopped his original serum from working for a time, so I’m going to put him on higher doses of regular medication for the time being, until the serum can kick back in.”

Cho nodded, suturing his small intestine. “I would use my new machine on him to help build new skin, but the skin has been cut open and damaged in too many places for it to be effective. Scalpel.” She added.

Bruce nodded and asked, “How about his lungs?”

“He had a punctured lung and I was able to seal the hole, but I imagine his repertory functions will be off for a while. I’m going to have intubate him after I finish repairing the lung, just until he can breathe on his own...”

The SHIELD doctors worked around Cho, repairing ribs or packing gaping wounds.

“I’m glad he can stay under for a whole procedure.” Bruce remarked, “He’s in enough hell as it is.”

“Don’t get hopeful yet, Doctor Banner. We still have a long way to go before he’s out of the woods.” 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Maria Hill walked back into the large sitting room, removing a surgical mask from her mouth and watched as heads turned to face her.

“How does he look?” Pepper asked for the group.

“There’s still a lot of work to be done.” Maria sighed, “They’re expecting at least 6 more hours of surgery.”

“What are the worst of his injuries?” Sam asked.

“He had a punctured lung, some internal bleeding, a lot of broken ribs, he lost a lot of blood and water. His kidneys shut down and he fractured his shoulder. Most of it is trying to stabilize him. They can’t move him to Cho’s facility because they’re afraid the trip could kill him.”

Tony sighed, “Well I can get supplies flown in to here. Anything Cho needs, I’m her man. Well, not her man, but the man with all the money.”

Hill nodded, looking around. “You should all get some sleep.”

They seemed to all simultaneously shake their heads.

“I will wake you up the moment I know anything.” Hill implored.

“Not a chance.” Tony replied.

“Nope.” Agreed Clint.

Hill sighed, “Do you all want to be exhausted when he wakes up? Or do you want to actually be able to support him? Depriving yourself of sleep won't help anyone. I will just have to deal with all of you.”

She gazed imperiously around, and slowly, they complied– heading to their respective bedrooms until only Maria and Thor remained.

“Do you want to rest too?” Hill asked Thor, knowing she had no authority over the God. 

Thor stood, still facing the lab’s glass walls, watching them work on Steve.

“I will stand vigil until the captain awakens.” Thor replied, “I shall not leave my post until that time has come.”

Hill sighed, but smiled slightly, “Okay Thor. I’ll stay with you for a while.”

Thor inclined his head and together they waited for their fallen warrior to wake up.

 

End of part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! There is the end of part 1, I hope you all enjoyed it and keep reading, I'll post again soon!!
> 
> I hope you like the quotes I started adding to the beginning of the chapters, sometimes they give better summaries than the ones I try to write. 
> 
> Cheers!


	9. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The surrounding space is so vast that it becomes increasingly difficult to keep a balanced grip on one's own being. The mind swells out to fill the entire landscape, becoming so diffuse in the process that one loses the ability to keep it fastened to the physical self. The sun would rise from the eastern horizon, and cut it's way across the empty sky, and sink below the western horizon. This was the only perceptible change in our surroundings. And in the movement of the sun, I felt something I hardly know how to name: some huge, cosmic love.”  
> ― Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I've been away from my computer for about 3 weeks. I just wanted to let you know that these next few chapters are going to be pretty dark, due to Steve's state of mind. This is just a warning and a note to be sure and look at the warning tags because some apply in these next few chapters.

It was a strange feeling, coming back from the dead. Steve Rogers knew it better than anyone, having died twice now. Or at least, he thought this couldn’t be death. It was too painful. 

When he had been dead in the ice, he had only felt peace. Now every part of him stung, like being bombarded with a million needles. His eyes too heavy to open, and arms too weak to move, he lay there, crossing between consciousness and sleep. He drifted along. His brain felt detached from his body, like someone looking in. He processed things slowly, his senses dull. Smell came first. 

He could smell the metallic taste of copper. It was potent. He inhaled the scent of peroxide, methanol, and other hospital anticipations. They were foul on his nose.   
Next came sound, returning to him as though he were surfacing from a great lake. Rhythmic beeping, mumbled voices– though whose they were he could not be sure. The sounds grew louder, the voices clearer.

“You need to give him more time, Tony. It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, only a weak, that’s not long at all for someone to be lying comatose. Of course!”

“Tony, please keep your voice down–“

“We need to know more than that, Banner. Is he going to, I don’t know, survive the next week?”

“I don’t know… he coded twice this week, and we’ve had to keep him on intubation but-“

Steve coughed and the voices halted.

Steve didn’t open his eyes, but listened intently– the noises now only came from the incisive beeping and whirring of machines. He opened his eyes a fraction of an inch, seeing a bright light through miniscule slits and three different voices greeted him.  
“Steve?”

“Cap?”

“Brother Steve, welcome back to the world of living!”

Curiosity getting the better of him, Steve opened his eyes, blinking at the bright and hazed faces.

“Thank god.” Said a voice.

Steve made to speak but a garbled noise issued from his mouth.

Bruce’s face came into view, “You’re intubated, Steve. Don’t try and speak, I’m going to take it out. This may pinch a bit.”

Steve nodded and Bruce removed the tube from his esophagus.

Steve began coughing violently, coughs racking his body; he shuttered and closed his eyes. Three pairs of hands rested on his shoulders to steady him and he soon felt the brim of a cup being pressed to his lips. He parted his lips and cool water poured into his mouth and down his searing throat, soothing it. Steve opened his eyes once more and Tony’s face appeared oddly close to him. He blinked at him and Tony backed off, his face filled with worry.

“Steve, how are you feeling?”

“I must look terrible…” Steve began, his throat sounding like he swallowed gravel, “You never call me Steve.”

A crooked smile twitched onto Tony’s face.

Steve closed his eyes and sighed, the air pushing through his lungs sent him into another coughing fit, worse than the last.

“Get him some more water.” Bruce said, and Thor dashed to the bedside table, while Steve wheezed. Thor tipped more water into his mouth, but Steve coughed it back up, his lungs unable to comply. He struggled to breath, his chest making a rattling noise with each inhale. Bruce’s hands gently lifted Steve’s head up and pulled an oxygen mask over his mouth. Air filtered into his lungs with ease and eventually stopped the coughing.

“Jesus, that was close.” Tony remarked, while Steve merely gazed at them, his eyelids heavy, all of his energy left him in one fell swoop.

“C’mon Steve, you need to get some sleep.” Bruce said, patting his shoulder. Steve flinched at the touch.He tried to pass it off as nothing, but Tony glanced awkwardly away.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

Steve had barely any time to nod before a dull pain and bone-aching fatigue took hold.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Thor gazed at Steve’s sleeping form, his eyes heavy with fatigue.

“Hey Thor.” Bruce’s voice announced, walking over to Steve’s bedside. They had turned one of Tony’s many bedrooms into a makeshift hospital ward.

“Doctor.” Thor inclined his head.

“You look awful, you should get some sleep.”

“I am staying in vigil until the captain awakens. That requires my full attention.”

Bruce sighed, “You’re very noble.”

Thor merely shrugged, “He is a wounded warrior, and a comrade must stand vigil until the warrior recovers their strength.”

Bruce squinted at him, “Have you slept at all this week?”

Thor shook his head.

“I don’t know much about Norse Gods but that can’t be good for you.”

“I shall survive, but until the same may be said about the captain, I will not rest.”

Bruce sighed again, cleaning his glasses on his sleeve. 

“He’ll be alright.” Bruce muttered, as though he were trying to convince himself. He moved to Steve’s bed and checked his pulse, watching the monitors. The heart monitor began beeping rapidly, and Bruce leaned forward, opening one of Steve’s eyelids. There was a sharp rasping sound and Steve sat bolt upright in bed, a wild look in his eyes. His breath came in short searing gasps through the oxygen mask.

“Steve? Can you hear me?” Bruce asked. Steve’s eyes gazed around the room and his breath became sharper.

“Calm down, Steve. It’s alright. I need you to try and breathe normally for me, will you do that?”

Steve’s eyes still contained that wild look and his breathing was ragged.

“Steve, you need to lay down, you’re tearing your stitches. Please, deep breaths.” Bruce put a hand on Steve’s shoulder but he threw it off, his scared look replaced with fury. He reached for the IV stuck in his arm but Bruce pushed his hand away. He grunted in pain as he tried to stand.   
“Is there anything I can do?” Thor asked, bounding up beside them as Bruce tried to push him back into bed.

“He’ll tear his stitches, help me hold him down.” Bruce grunted.

Thor put a strong hand on Steve’s shoulder and pushed him back into the bed. Steve’s breaths came in gasps as he struggled to throw off Thor.  
“JARVIS, I need someone’s help to calm him down, I don’t think he knows where he is, call someone!”

“Yes sir. I will find who is closest.”

As they struggled to keep Steve down, approaching footfalls announced the arrival of Tony and Sam.

“What’s going on?” Asked Tony. 

“I think he’s disassociating. He doesn’t know where he is, his pupils are unresponsive. Is Helen here?” Bruce turned to them.

“No, she had an urgent call in Seoul.”

“Then I need one of you to calm him down!” Bruce face was turning slightly green. That moved them both into action.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you take a break– go get some fresh air?” Tony asked him, “Blow off some steam, maybe destroy a few buildings.”  
Bruce grunted something, flexing his hands before storming out of the room.

“Don’t take it personally,” Tony added to Steve, who was still struggling under Thor’s strong grip, “It’s not you, it’s him.”

“Should we sedate him?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. He’s already on these IV’s.” Tony gestured to the needles sticking out of both arms.

“Then we must converse with him, tell him that he has strength of body and mind. That he is secure.” Thor replied.

“Not sure ‘strength of body and mind’ is really what will put his mind at ease.” Tony rolled his eyes then pulled up a chair next to Steve.

“Hey Cap, listen to me, you’re safe. You’re at Avengers tower with me and Thor. Sam’s here too.”

Steve wheezed and his eyes fluttered, but he continued to struggle.

“Steve, come on. Focus, look around you, see where you are. You need to calm down.” Sam said, “You’re alright now, you’re safe.”

Steve’s eyes locked with Sam’s and recognition crossed his face. His eyes traveled to Tony who flashed him a dazzling smile and then to Thor who grinned broadly. Steve broke into a coughing fit and Tony noticed a small pool of crimson appear under his bandaging.

“Dammit, he must have ripped his stitches. Could you go find our big guy and tell him we need puny Banner back?” Tony asked Thor. The God nodded and left the room at a swift pace.

“Steve, breathe, it’s alright.” Sam soothed, his tone soft.

Steve’s eyelids fluttered as he looked around the room, his eyes out of focus and his breathing ragged.

“It’s okay.” Sam said to him as a single tear escaped Steve’s eyes and rolled down his cheek. Tony and Sam sat in silence with Steve whose eyes filled with tears. He cried silently and none of them said a word.

Bruce jogged back into the room with Thor on his tail.

“Code green?” Tony asked him.

“Stopped it in time.” Bruce breathed, “I got angry at the thought of who would do this…” He shook his head as he approached Steve. Steve blinked away his tears and his eyes grew heavy. He watched through heavy eyelids as Bruce cleaned his wound and re-stitched it, the twinges of pain didn’t effect him much. He drifted off to sleep once more.

*-*-*-*-*

Through the haze of pain and unconsciousness, Steve’s eyes fixated on Bucky’s as he sat in the shadows across from Steve’s bed. Bucky looked troubled.

“What’s eating you?” Steve asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Bucky didn’t respond at first, but chewed the inside of his cheek, mulling over his words.

“You. Look at you. You look damn near pitiful.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at him, “I feel fine Buck. Just a little hazy.”

Bucky shook his head sadly, leaning back in his chair so his face was nearly hidden completely by shadow.

“I mean it. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“I don’t think you’ve been fine for a while.” Bucky replied, his tone sad and his eyes fixed on him, almost scrutinizing.

“What do you-“

“I mean since I went off to war. You haven’t been the same. You’ve been unhappy.”

“I just missed you, that’s all-“ Steve corrected.

Bucky hissed, his tone sharp and cutting, “No, Steve. You clung on to me. Why did you do that? Huh? You thought you could put all of your happiness into one person? How did that turn out for ya?”

“Buck-“

A tortured look filled his face,

“You let me consume you, Steve. You loved so deeply that you forgot how to love without me. When I fell off that train you never moved on. Ever. You just waited for revenge or a miracle to cure your sadness. Why?”

“Because I love you-“

“No, you loved me. Steve. Your love turned to pain when I was gone because I left a hole in you. But it’s my damn fault, Steve. I carved it out of your chest with my bare hands.”

Bucky looked down at his hands in horror, and through the glint of the moonlight flooding in from the windows, Steve could see his hands were painted a crimson red.

“I tore you apart Stevie.” Bucky’s voice held the same sad defeated tone as before.

“Buck-“

“How am I supposed to fix something that isn’t broken?”

Steve gazed at him, furrowing his brow, “I don’t need fixing Buck. I’ve got you. That’s all I need.”

“And that’s exactly why you need fixin’. Because you won't always have me.” Bucky leaned forward so the moonlight hit his face. Blood covered the side of his head, drenching his long hair in crimson. Steve watched in horror as Bucky’s features melted as the tide of blood enveloped him.

Steve’s eyes flew open. Greeted by the darkness around him. They fell to the chair sitting beside his bed and saw it was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments, they fill me with joy! I hope you like it, and even if you don't like the direction it took, please stay with it! Part 2 is going to be action packed and angsty! 
> 
> Also, because this chapter is so short, I will post the next one in a few days!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."- Albus Dumbledore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I got it out as fast as I could! Thank you all a million for sticking with this story! I love you all so much.
> 
> Most of all I love my friend Arden who has been a huge help editing for me!

Steve could breathe on his own now. Bruce had removed his oxygen 2 hours earlier and noted Steve’s short breaths with chagrin, but he could breathe on his own.

Little victories.

As for the rest of his recovery, Bruce wasn’t so pleased. His water amount was still dangerously low, going through two bags of fluids an hour. The serum seemed to have halted and Steve had to heal like a normal person for a while. His ribs were beginning to repair themselves but the larger wounds had barely scabbed over.  
Bruce scrutinized Steve’s chart Helen had written up. He squinted at the tiny black scrawl and let out a puff of air.

“JARVIS, call Helen Cho for me, will you?”

“Certainly. Where would you like to take the call?”

“My office, please.” Bruce walked out of the room and nearly ran into Thor.

“Apologies Doctor.” Thor mumbled. Bruce noted just how exhausted Thor looked.

“Are you still standing vigil?” He asked incredulously.

Thor inclined his head.

“Okay, doctor’s orders- go to bed. Steve is breathing on his own now, and he’s woken up twice already. He’s going to make it.”

Thor blinked slowly at him and then a large grin spread over his tired features. “Thank you, Doctor Banner!”

Thor pulled Bruce into a bone-crushing hug. Bruce struggled free and grimaced at him, “You’re welcome, Thor. Now go sleep.”

Thor nodded once more and walked away.

Rolling his eyes, Bruce headed to his office. It sat adjacent to the lab a floor down from Steve’s makeshift hospital room. Tony and him had set it up so Bruce could do his research and work primarily out of his office and the lab, since the SHIELD facilities were no longer available to them.

He sat at his mahogany desk and powered on one of Tony’s new computers at his desk. Helen Cho’s face appeared on the screen.

“Doctor Banner-“ She began, concern in her eyes and her black hair curtaining her face, “How’s Steve?”

Bruce sighed, “He’s breathing on his own. I think he’s going to make it.”

“That’s good.” Helen responded.

“It’s his metabolism I’m concerned about though. He’s not healing from his injuries and I still have to have him on dialysis while his kidneys recover. I’m not sure if the serum will ever be back to normal. His overall body water amount is still extremely low. He’s barely able to move, let alone sit up. He tore his stitches while he dissociated.”

“When did he dissociate? Was he with anyone?”

“Yeah, I assume he must have been dreaming because when he woke up he forgot where he was.”

“Okay…” Helen furrowed her brow, “What do you need from me, Doctor Banner?”

Bruce sighed, “Help… I need to know if I’m doing the right things to help him recover. I’ve never dealt with a case this serious before, all of my cases in India dealt with diseases or the common cold. But this… he was tortured, Helen. There is so much internal and external damage and who knows the amount of emotional trauma.” Bruce removed his glasses and buried the heel of his palm into his eyes until he saw spots.

“The trauma you can deal with when the time comes. He has an excellent support system that can help him through it. And there’s always therapy. Plus, he’s Captain America. He’s been through so much. He can shake this off.”

He hung up with Helen soon after and felt knots of worry tightening in his stomach. He thought back to Helen’s words. Steve was resilient. He could shake this off… probably.

*-*-*-*-*-*

“Look at this bullshit!” Clint Barton entered the dining room and threw a newspaper onto the coffee table. Natasha peeked at it over her steaming mug of coffee while Sam picked it up.

The front page read:

Avenger Hawkeye rudely refuses to answer questions about Captain America’s condition.

A picture on the front depicted Clint flipping off the camera.

Natasha read over Sam’s shoulder and clicked her tongue, “I told you. Don’t piss of the press, or they’ll bite you right back in the ass.”

“Keep reading.” Clint growled.

“Read what?” Tony asked, walking in, a bag of chips in hand.

“This article about Clint being a jackass.” Sam looked mildly bemused. Clint noticed rings under Sam’s eyes and his moments seemed slower than usual. Then again, they must have all looked like that, even Tony had the same fatigued air about him.

Sam flourished the paper and coughed pointedly.

“’Last week, the world was confronted with the idea that Captain America may officially be gone from this world, when he was seen flying from a building in the arms of Norse God and Avenger, Thor. When concerned reporters arrived at the Avengers Tower, they were greeted by none other than Avengers, Hawkeye (Pictured above). When asked about the Captain’s condition, the archer threw profanity around and told them to leave. There has been no word on the condition of Captain America or what caused his condition. The evidence the New York Police Department has been searching for is inconclusive. The fact of the matter remains, the Avengers are hiding something about the Captain, whether it be that he truly is dead, or doing fine and well. Hawkeye’s demonstration of vulgarity and secrecy-“

“Of what?!” Clint exclaimed.

“Let him finish!” Tony remarked eagerly, a grin spreading over his bearded face.

“’lead the people to believe that the Avengers may not be the hero’s they were once believed to be. Perhaps there is more going on behind closed doors than first imagined.

“’The world had learned about Tony Stark’s recovery from his time in Afghanistan and the fact that he may not be fully recovered from those traumatic events. Black Widow’s dangerous past is now open to the public. Not to mention the Incredible Hulk’s knack for violence. Each Avenger seems to hold a dark past, and the people of New York hope that these dark sides will not turn them into something they cannot fight.’”

Sam looked around and saw similar shock he felt reflected back in their faces.

“That made no sense.” Tony remarked, “I’m a very charming person.”

“Like hell you are.” Natasha snorted, “The press doesn’t know a thing and they’re pouting about it.”

Clint rolled his eyes and picked up his now cool cup of coffee, “I’m a spy, of course I have to use secrecy.”

Sam looked around at them all, “I’m just glad I wasn’t dragged through this mess.”

“Your time is coming, my friend.” Tony’s eyes glinted malevolently at Sam before turning to Clint- “And you, Robin Hood, stop being so vulgar all the time, geeze.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Stark.”

Tony wagged a finger at him and opened his mouth to respond but Bruce came hurrying into the room.

“He’s awake… and he’s asking for all of you.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Steve sucked in a breath and felt it rattle through his chest on its way out of his lungs. He felt like a puppet, attached by wires. He could barely move because of them.

Monitors beeped around him and he blinked at the harsh lights.

“Steve?” A woman’s voice came from the door.

“Hey ya Peg.” Steve replied, his voice cracked from disuse.

Natasha glanced at Clint, Tony, Sam, and Bruce as they followed her inside.

“How ya feeling, Cap?” Tony asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Like I was run over by a tank.” Steve replied, “I must have blacked out in the field, ‘cause I don’t remember anything except Dugan pulling me out of the rubble. Howard, where are we? One of your new facilities?”

Tony threw the team a startled look and approached Steve’s bedside. He pulled a chair up next to him.

“Steve, I’m Tony. Howard’s gone.”

But Steve appeared not to hear because then he turned to Hawkeye,

“Juniper, where’s Bucky?”

Clint paled and coughed, “I’m Hawkeye, Steve. And he’s…. he’s dead. Cynbel killed him.”

Steve shook his head and chuckled, “No. He’s joking right, Howard?”

Tony merely shook his head, “He’s gone Steve.”

Steve’s smile faltered and he gazed upon the group.

“Peggy?” he shot at Natasha, “He’s lying.”

Natasha sighed and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently, “Steve…”

Steve continued to shake his head, horror clouding his gaze.

“But you’re safe,” Natasha commented, “We got you out.”

They all looked at Bruce who sighed and stepped forward.

“No more doctors, please.” Steve eyed Bruce with a weary expression, “Howard, make it stop.”

He gripped Tony’s arm sharply and his breathing became shallow.

“Hey Steve. Lie back, it’ll be alright.” Sam stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met and confusion crossed his face.

“Sam?”

“It’s me Cap. You’re safe.”

“But how can you be here?” Confusion crossed his face.

“We’re at Avengers tower.”

Bruce shot him a warning look and whispered, “Maybe we should let him live in this delusion for a while, and he can process one shock at a time. Steve, how do you feel?”

“I can barely move, doc. Everything hurts. The serum should have kicked in by now.” Steve’s eyes had glazed over, “But we should make sure Bucky’s alright. Has anyone seen him?”

Clint closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Excuse me.” Clint said, striding from the room, his eyes averted and his footfalls loud over the silence of the room.

“Steve, why don’t you get some rest? You look exhausted.” Bruce said.

Steve nodded and replied, “I could use it if we plan to take out Schmit’s base tomorrow.”

Bruce nodded and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll talk soon.”

Steve closed his eyes and fatigue seemed to take him instantly.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Natasha found Clint on the roof, gazing at the skyline. A light mist settled around the buildings, giving the impression that the city was floating. A cool breeze played through his blonde hair and Natasha leaned beside him on the railing. She didn’t speak for a moment, watching the mist roll and churn. Then, without turning to him she spoke,

“What happened in there?”

Clint didn’t look at her, but allowed a pained expression to ghost across his face before concealing it again.

“Steve reminded me of myself… when I lost her.”

Natasha didn’t need an explanation. She remembered that day well.

“I denied it for a long time, Tasha. I kidded myself that I didn’t care… that she was just a kid who had gotten me out of a lot of tight spots. That was all.” Clint shook his head sadly, “I regressed like Steve did. Pretended she was alive for months…”

Natasha nodded, “I remember.”

Clint took a shaky sigh, “But Kate … I loved her. And seeing Steve going through that… I don’t want anyone to go through what I went through. It killed me. I don’t think I’ve been the same after that.”

This was the most Natasha had ever heard Clint talk about Kate Bishop’s death. They had worked together for years, and Kate was the only one who could make Clint truly happy, until he met Laura.

Natasha sighed, “But you got better. You moved on, even though you still remember her and keep her close to your heart. Steve will get over this too. We’ll just have to help him.”

Clint sighed but eventually gave a noncommittal nod.

“I’ll see you later, Tasha.” Clint left the roof.

Natasha gazed out at the low hanging mist and shivered. Seeing Steve look so certain that he was talking to Peggy Carter when he spoke to her felt terrible. He seemed to be grasping, clinging to his old world for it was the only world that gave him comfort. While she spent her whole life running away from her past, he dwelled on it.

He seemed idle while she never ceased. Natasha closed her eyes and let the wind carry her thoughts far away from the balcony to the far away musings of easier times, hoping that by some miracle, it would make the pain of this moment stiffen into nothing but mist.

*-*-*-*-*-

~Germany 1942~

Rain drummed lightly on the canopy above and thunder growled distantly as Steve sat in the tent, pressing gauze onto his bleeding arm.

“Is that all then?” A voice from the entrance called.

Steve looked up and a smile spread on his face.

“Buck.”

Bucky Barnes walked into the tent and plopped onto the cot beside him. Their barracks resembled that of a small storage room, except where boxes would be piled up, cots were stacked front to back in long rows. Bucky had to clamber over three of them before reaching Steve’s.

“Is that all what?” Steve asked.

“Was a cut all you got in that raid??” Bucky gestured to his bleeding arm.

“They pulled a bullet out of my leg two hours ago.”

Bucky shook his head, “I still can’t believe it, when I see you. You look so different sometimes I think you’re an imposter. I mean, not that I’m complainin’ or anything-“ he added, eying Steve’s muscled arms and legs, “But I dunno, I liked the old Steve better.”

“It’s still me.” Steve chuckled.

“But now you can look after yourself, I feel like my job is a bit useless now you can fix your own cuts and whatnot. I feel like ya don’t need me to look after you anymore.”

Steve’s forehead wrinkled and he gazed at Bucky, “How could I ever stop needing you.”

Bucky grinned and leaned forward, their lips inches apart when Steve pulled away.

“Buck- not here.”

“Steve.” Bucky sighed.

“Someone could come in.”

“They’re all back at the campfire, drinking themselves silly. We have this palace to ourselves.” He lifted his hands in an air of a showgirl pointing out an extravagant getaway.

“I dunno.” Steve mumbled.

“Oh come’ ere you big idiot.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s face in his hands and they kissed. The rain came down harder over their heads but the two were impervious to all else.

Footsteps approached the tent and they sprang apart. Busying himself with his gauze, Steve turned away and Bucky ran a hand through his hair.  
Howard Stark poked his head in, “Hey you two stop necking and get out here. You gotta see this.”

They clambered over the cots to the mouth of the tent and followed Howard’s retreating back towards a large field. The long grass swayed in the breeze looking like black waves in the darkness.

Then there came a soft, sweet sound. Out from the field they heard signing. As they approached, men appeared from tents, following the singing voices until they saw a mass in the darkness. The voices were high-pitched and almost child-like.

As Steve squinted he saw the faces of around 20 children appear as they approached. The children wore striped clothing and their hair was cut abnormally short.  
Their voices sang in Hebrew, a mix of both girls and boys. Their faces held a look of despair and terror, but they continued to sing as they approached the camp. The lights from the camp illuminated their pale complexions and skinny arms.

Steve watched the children approach and found himself walking toward them, wanting to reach out to each of them and tell them they were safe. No one would bully them anymore. Most children were crying as they sang and walked. They had pictured this as the end of their short lives. But their faces broke into smiles as they saw the American soldiers coming toward them. They knew they were saved.

 

~Present Day~

 

Steve awoke in the dark, and the first thing he thought of was the escaped children. Their voices rang in his head. He managed a smile for the first time in weeks.  
He sat up and felt pain rack through his body. He grunted and mumbled, “JARVIS, lights.”

The lights flicked on, a dim glow.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, sir. Though may I suggest that I call Doctor Banner before you try to get out of bed?” Jarvis stated.

Steve still found himself, after all of these months, amazed by how much Jarvis knew. He found it both fascinating and irritating at times.

Steve didn’t reply but shifted into a sitting position. His legs trembled and he felt as though his stomach was on fire. He grunted and placed bare feet on the floor, ripping the heart monitors off his chest.

“If you’re going anywhere, please at least take your IV with you. I suggest we call Doctor Ban-“

“Thanks JARVIS, but I’ll be fine. I just wanted to know what they did with…” His voice became suddenly dry and his heart hammered in his chest, “With his body.”

JARVIS seemed to pause before he said, “He is on the 2nd floor in Mr. Stark’s primary office on that level, but sir you should stay in bed and-“

“Thank you.” Steve cut him off, taking tentative steps, limping on his left leg and making slow progress across the room.

He reached the door, dragging his IV stand with him. He was still hooked up to 3 different IV’s. They all bumped into one another as he made it to the elevator. He jabbed the ‘down’ button and waited, attempting to ignore the pain wracking his body. He needed to see him, to know that it was true.

The elevator dinged shrilly in Steve’s groggy state and he winced at the light accosting his eyes.

Grunting in pain, he heaved a breath and jabbed the number 2. The elevator descended and Steve leaned back against the railing, breathing shallowly. His head swam but he fought to stay conscious as the doors slid open.

Steve shuffled down the hall to Tony’s office, his heart beating a samba in his chest. It felt as though he was walking to death row, the long hallway stretched on for hours and Steve feared what he would find inside that office. The ignorance was the only thing keeping him sane, the glimmer of hope that he would open the door and Bucky would bound out crying, ‘Gotcha punk!’

He stared at the doorknob, his vision going tunnel and the knob seemed to be the only thing that existed. He held his breath but made no move to open it. The fear inside him welled like a great beast; ready to pounce the moment he turned that knob. The beast clambered up the sides of his stomach, clawing it’s way out of him. Steve Rogers had never been more terrified in his life, not when Bucky had been drafted, or he had joined the war, or flying into the ice, or watching aliens burst from a portal in space; none of this compared to the fear of what he knew lay beyond that door.

His legs grew weak and he slid down the opposite wall, the IV tubes tugging uncomfortably at his arms. He hit the floor with a dull thud and gazed at the door, needing to know if it were true but dreading it all the same. Bucky had come back before, hadn’t he? His memories could barely recall what had happened to him in the first place. Someone shot him? Or stabbed him? Or maybe he was just very ill. Maybe Bruce had managed to save him…

Steve allowed these delusions to fill him up and his eyelids fluttered. He closed his eyes and fell asleep slumped against the wall, unable to face what lay beyond that door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay there you are! I hope you liked it! Please keep posting comments and tell me how you like this story.
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm not sure when I'll be able to post next because I am quite busy these next few weeks but I'll see what I can do)
> 
> Ta!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I love him in ways that I can’t explain to other people. They don’t understand… it’s not their fault.”  
> ― Jennifer Elisabeth

Days since last incident: 33

Bruce lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in his room. His thoughts wandered about his mind, jumping aimlessly from one idea to another. He had barely gotten any sleep the past few nights, getting up every couple of hours to check on Steve’s vitals. He knew he wasn’t a medical doctor, there was only so much he could do for Steve.

He sucked in a breath and rolled on his side, closing his eyes.

Visions flashed over his eyelids. The sound of gunshots rang through his ears and he saw flashes of light. The beeping of monitors resounded in the darkness of his mind, mingled with the flashes of night. The cacophonous effect caused Bruce to open his eyes and sit up, panting.

He crossed his legs on the bed and practiced breathing as he had learned in India. The noises faded to a dull hum. The stress of the past few weeks took a toll on his nerves. Recently he seemed always on the verge of setting off the Other Guy, and the lack of sleep didn’t help.

He listened to the silence around him and then glanced at his clock. It read 5:43. He blinked sleepily at it for a moment before settling back into bed.

“Excuse me, sir.” JARVIS’ voice rang throughout the room.

Bruce sat bolt upright. “What is it, JARVIS?”

“It’s Captain Rogers, sir. He has gotten out of bed and is heading toward the 2nd floor.”

“What?” Bruce put on his glasses quickly and clambered out of bed, “Where is he going?”

“To see Mr. Barnes’ body, sir.”

Bruce sighed heavily, “Okay.”

“I have notified Mr. Stark as well.”

“Thank you JARVIS.”

Bruce headed out of the room and met Tony by the elevator.

“Let’s go get our Captain back.” Tony said.

Bruce found him lying on the ground on the second floor, bleeding from his stomach. He was mumbling something, his eyes unfocused.

“Steve, can you hear me?” Bruce asked.

Steve’s eyes did not leave the door opposite him.

“Tony, help me get him up.”

Tony and Bruce lifted Steve to his feet and Steve sucked in a breath, pain crossing his features. His eyes focused on Bruce.

“I need to see him.”

“We need to get you back to your room.”

“I need to see him.” Steve repeated, wheezing.

Bruce exchanged a look with Tony who nodded. “Okay, take my arm.”

Steve hobbled over to the door and Bruce paused before opening it.

The room was dark and Steve squinted, his heart thumping in his chest.

Bruce flicked on the lights.

Steve saw a large casket sitting atop a desk, the wood a handsome mahogany. Steve let go of Bruce’s arm and shuffled over to the casket, ignoring the blood pooling through his t-shirt. He took a shaky breath and turned back,  
“Can I have a moment?”

Bruce sighed and replied, “We’ll be right outside.” They stepped out into the hallway and closed the door.  
Steve gazed down at the casket, and lifted its lid.

Bucky Barnes lay with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed.

He could have been sleeping. Seeing his body broke something inside of Steve. He felt it happen. The pain in his body felt like nothing compared to this cold gaping hole in his chest. He feared he would be swallowed by it and moved quickly away, whispering all the while, “It’s my fault.”

He stumbled to the door and threw it open. Bruce jumped forward to help Steve but Steve didn’t notice. All he could see was Bucky’s gaunt face, paled in death.

“It’s my fault.” Steve whispered again, his voice shook with that understanding.

“What?” Tony asked him, looking uncomfortable.

“It’s my fault.” Steve whispered to himself.

“What is he saying?”

“I don’t know, but lets get him back. Tony, would you carry the IV with you? Come on Steve.”

Steve allowed himself to be half-walked, half-carried back to the elevator. They reached his hospital room and Steve blanched. He shook with the combined effort of walking and breathing. Bruce helped him back into bed and lifted his shirt. His ribs stood out against his pale skin. His skin was riddled with cuts and dark bruises.  
Steve sucked in slow breaths that rattled through his chest, his eyes gazing straight ahead. Bruce stitched up the open, oozing gash in Steve’s stomach with no complaint from the latter.

“That should feel better soon. Tony, get him some water please.”

Tony complied and filled a glass with the jug by the bed. Steve didn’t respond or react when Tony held out the glass for him to take.

“You should get some fluids down Steve.”

Steve continued to gaze ahead, not listening.

Bruce shot Tony a weary look and Tony sighed, “Well if you get thirsty, its here.” He set it on the bed side table and walked toward the door.

“Cap, you’ll get through this. I promise.” Tony promised before walking out of the room.

Steve’s eyes traveled from the wall to Bruce. There were tears in his eyes and he whispered, “It’s my fault.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he pulled a chair up next to Steve.

“What’s your fault?”

“All of it. It’s my fault. I killed him… I killed Bucky. Its my fault he’s dead. I could have taken his place. He didn’t need to die. They took me and it’s my fault, what they did to me.” Steve rambled.

Bruce gazed at him in horror. He took off his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his sweater. 

“Steve…” Bruce gritted his teeth, “This isn’t your fault. You were in no way responsible for his death or anything that happened to you. They drugged you Steve. They tortured you.”

“I should have tried harder. It’s my fault.” His face was openly full of emotion.

“Steve, who told you this?” Bruce was breathing heavily, his heart thumping faster in his chest.

“Cynbel was right. It’s my fault.”

“It’s… not….” Bruce felt his heart dancing in his ribcage, his anger and pain spiking. He balled his hands into fists and a vein popped on his neck. Steve sucked in a breath, his eyes widening.

He balled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. Pushing his chaotic thoughts and emotions to the side, he jumped into his role as Captain America, as he often did in battle. Nothing else mattered at that moment but the dire situation presenting itself in front of him. 

“Banner?” Concern flashed through Steve’s eyes as Bruce’s eyes shone green. “JARVIS, get Stark.” 

“I’m already on it, sir.” JARVIS’ voice rang through the room.

Bruce fell to the floor, his face turned downward and his fists cracking the ground.

“Bruce-“ Steve began, sliding out of bed with a grunt of pain, “Calm down. It’s alright.”

Bruce growled, his complexion green. His limbs began to expand, his head and chest enlarged into a massive figure. A low growl filled the room as Steve approached the large green mass.

“Bruce?” Steve made to touch the small of his back but Hulk lifted his ugly head and roared. The ceiling shook, throwing dust into the air. Steve backed up, stumbled, and fell.

Tony busted through the door followed closely by Thor.

“What the-?”

“Get out!” Steve yelled.

Tony’s eyes widened and he made to run towards Steve but the Hulk stood, crashing through the ceiling.

“Woah!”

Tony ducked out of the way as Hulk snarled and landed a fist where Tony had been mere seconds before.

Thor flung out his hand and a metal whooshing sound resonated through the air. Mjölnir flew into his hand and he brought it down to the tiled floor. With a mighty crash each of them were pushed backward. Hulk howled and Thor rushed toward him yelling, “Banner! Calm yourself!”

Steve lay on the floor, clutching his side and dragging himself away from Hulk and Thor.

Thor turned to Tony who lay flat on his back blinking around. “Take the Captain and go! I’ll take care of him!”

Tony hurried to Steve, grabbing him by the elbow as Hulk gave another mighty roar.

“What the hell did you say to him?” Tony shouted over the din.

Steve huffed and hurried out with Tony.

They watched from the window of the door as Thor continued to push Hulk back with the force of Mjölnir, talking in soothing tones the whole time.

“Banner, you are a strong warrior. You are stronger than this.”

Hulk’s mere size had caved in the roof above him. Desks, tables, and technology equipment cascaded over their heads from floors above.

“Not the most soothing environment.” Tony mumbled to Steve.

Still clutching his side, Steve wheezed and nodded.

“Lets get you out of here.” Tony recommended.

Steve shook his head, “I want to help Bruce.”

Tony snorted, “There’s nothing you can do to help. I think Thor has it under control.”

Just then, Hulk extended a large fist and knocked Thor to the ground. Thor grunted and attempted to stand, but Hulk put a large foot on Thor’s chest. Hulk roared again and shook the roof.

Steve pulled the door open as Hulk tried to pull Mjölnir from Thor’s grip, but grunted in frustration when it wouldn’t give.

“Hulk!” Steve shouted.

Hulk looked round.

“Let Thor go. This isn’t worth hurting anyone.”

Hulk huffed out a breath and lifted his foot from Thor who groaned.

“Look at me, Bruce. Let it go. Please.”

Hulk shook his head furiously and snatched at a desk hanging from the concave ceiling. He snapped it in two, growling.

“You’ve been able to control this in the past. Do it now!” Steve shouted to the monstrous figure before him, hoping to God that he could understand.  
Hulk lowered his head, and if Steve could describe it he thought the creature looked ashamed. Hulk huffed and punched a hole in the side of Avengers tower, then crawled through the hole and stumped away into the city.

“No.” Steve moaned. He watched Hulk go, but noticed his movements were slow and defeated.

Steve hurried to Thor and Tony opened the door.

“Bold move Cap. Not a good plan at all, but bold. He’s a rage monster for a reason.”

“I thought I could get through to Bruce.”

He sank into a chair among the ruble as Tony helped Thor up.

“Nice try with the hole mighty Banner thing Thor, but I think you missed the point. Bruce hates Hulk, Hulk hates Bruce. It’s how their twisted relationship works.”  
Thor shook his head sadly, “I still do not understand Midgardians. You are all so fearful of the darker parts inside of you. And if you let them out, they rule you. If one were to master an equilibrium between both sides of their being it would make them much better warriors and rulers.”

“Here here.” Tony smirked, “It’s a nice thought Thor, but that’s not how humanity works. We bottle up our anger and darkness inside of us until we explode. It’s really healthy.”

Steve’s eyes unfocused as he mulled over Thor’s words.

Some things were better left unexamined. Those darker thoughts and places didn’t need to be brought to life. Steve dwelled in the past because there he could be with Peggy and Bucky or smiling and laughing with the Howling Commandos. There he was comfortably numb. He feared that the darkness in his past and inside of him would consume him if he let it out.

“Cap? Hey! Space cadet!”

Steve’s head snapped up as Tony clicked his fingers at him.

“What did you do to warrant a visit from the Hulk?” Tony’s face looked bemused, but concern hinted in his eyes.

“Oh it’s nothing.”

“Well, ‘nothing’ just smashed a Hulk-size hole through my window.”

“I just told him something and he started transforming.”

“What?”

Steve waved a hand away, “Please, Tony. It’s nothing important.”

“Really Cap? Because Banner has been able to at least somewhat control when he transforms. But just now he tried to flatten Thor into an Asguardian pancake. Don’t tell me that’s nothing.”

Steve sighed and shook his head, “Nothing worth talking about.”

Tony threw his hands up, “I think there’s a lot worth talking about, Rogers. Like why you thought it was a good idea to get your ass out of bed and go to the second floor. Or why you are still just as injured as you were the day we found you. You won't tell us what he did to you and I get not wanting to talk about it, but c’mon Cap, we need to know. You should be almost healed by now it’s been two weeks. Why aren’t you healing?”

Tony’s tone was so accusatory that Steve’s hands began to tremble. He balled them into fist and stood, grunting in pain.

“Because it’s my fault!” Steve nearly shouted at Tony, “It’s my fault he’s dead. My fault that Bucky was even with me when we were kidnapped. My fault what happened to him in first place! Don’t you see? I deserve what I got because of what I did to Bucky. It’s punishment for killing every part of who he was. So Cynbel killed every part of who I was. I’m not Captain America any more, Stark. I don’t deserve that title. I did this to him and I caused so many other deaths during the war. If I had known that I would have lived through the ice just to cause people more pain then I would have blown up that plane in the sky!”

Steve stumbled from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

Tony gave Thor a wide-eyed look and Thor lowered his head.

“I now understand why Doctor Banner transformed. If only Steve understood how wrong he is.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Days since last incident: 0

Bruce’s eyes shot open. He groaned and looked around. He lay in a pile of rubble of a crushed warehouse. His pants were tattered and torn around him. He groaned and stood, taking in his surroundings. He must have been on the outskirts of the city, because the place looked more farm-like.

He stood and picked his way out of the crushed warehouse to a large field. Sighing heavily Bruce headed through the field, trying to keep his mind off of what had happened back at Avengers Tower. If he had hurt Steve or Thor or Tony… he shook himself and took calming breaths. The field was large and burrs cut his arms and bare chest as he walked. He hadn’t lost that much control in a long time. Not since Betty had died…

Thinking of that day boiled his blood and he pushed away the dark thoughts encroaching the edges of his mind.

When he was with Betty he could transform with less consequence. His mind could half-remain while the Other Guy did his thing. The incidents became less and less. But after she had passed, he became worse than ever. Bruce remembered the multiple attempts he’d made to take his own life. All failures. A part of him still wished that he had succeeded.

He shook his head like a dog trying to rid his fur of water. He mustn’t think these things… they were best locked in a place far away that he only accessed when the Other Guy showed up.

Since the attack on New York on his first Avengers mission, he had been in a semblance of control. A peace within the chaos. But something about Steve’s words set him over the edge. Bruce knew how it felt to believe he was at fault for the death of a loved one. He blamed himself for Betty. But the way Steve spoke… with such self-loathing in his voice...

Bruce shuttered. He now had a clear idea why Steve wasn’t healing. It wasn’t the serum malfunctioning; Steve wasn’t letting himself heal. The injuries were psychosomatic.

Bruce reached a dirt road and tread along it, the hot gravel cutting his bare feet.

He heard a whooshing sound overhead, like a small helicopter. Gazing upward he saw Thor swinging his hammer in dizzying circles until he touched down in front of Bruce.  
“Doctor! How pleased I am to see you are feeling in better health!” Thor boomed, clapping Bruce on the back.

Bruce blinked at him and closed his eyes.

“Thor, I am so sorry for… what happened back there.” He opened his eyes and desperately gazed at Thor, “Were you hurt?”

“Not in the slightest. You did not turn me into an Asgardian flat breakfast item.”

Bruce shot him a confused look before asking, “Where are we? How did you find me?”

“The man of iron assisted me in my attempts to find you. We just followed the path of destruction to find you.”

“Sounds like a metaphor for my life.” Bruce replied dryly.

“Come, we are only 30 earth minutes from the Tower. I can take you if you are ready to come back.” Thor beamed at him.

“Yeah, okay. Oh, how’s Steve?”

Thor’s grin faded and his gaze turned somber, “He is suffering. Our Captain stormed away after Tony prompted him to answer his inquiries about what caused your transformation and when I left to find you, Stark was searching for the good Captain.”

Bruce sighed, “He is having a hard time. I wish I knew how to help him.”

“So do all of us, Doctor Banner. Perhaps he simply needs time to rest and heal. Then he may realize he is not truly at fault for the tragic events. But he must realize this for himself before he can begin to move on.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He wore red, white, and blue, but he didn’t look patriotic—he looked like a sloppily wrapped birthday present. But it’s not his fault. I tried to wrap him as tight as I could...”  
> ― Jarod Kintz, This Book Title is Invisible

Tony looked for Steve the remainder of the day, but after he saw Steve’s motorcycle had disappeared from the garage, he knew he had left the tower. Cursing under his breath, Tony called in the cavalry.

It was his fault Steve had left in the first place. He had pushed him away, just like Tony Stark always did. He pushed and he pushed until the good Captain couldn’t take it anymore. Tony didn’t blame him. He knew Steve needed space but dammit, he was sick and needed help. Tony was the poster child for shoving emotions down until they exploded out in bursts of alcoholism and anger, but Steve couldn’t even get drunk. There was no way to let it out.

The cavalry, as it turned out, was Natasha Romanoff. She stalked into the garage, her placid expression portraying none of her fierce demeanor.

“Hey Widow. I need you to help me bring Steve back.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, “What did you say to him Stark? He wouldn’t just fly the coop like that without a good reason.”

Tony sighed, “He needed fresh air or something. I got pretty mad at him for setting off Banner and he snapped at me. I didn’t realize how bad it was.”  
Natasha nearly growled, “What did you say to him?”

Tony reluctantly re-told what Steve had said to him and Thor after Hulk had smashed through the window.

Natasha sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. “He blames himself for his friends death. It’s very common in cases like these, especially when torture is involved. Now you said Cynbel told him it was his fault?”

Tony nodded.

“Then he must have been coercing Steve into believing that was the truth. It’s a form of psychic driving- they tell the subject that they are something until they believe it themselves.”

“Will you quit talking about Steve like he’s some test subject? This is our friend we’re talking about!”

“I know he is.” She huffed, “But he also needs our help and sometimes a clinical eye is the best way to approach things.”

Tony scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Will you help me find him?”

She nodded and before he could say another word she had stalked off.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Tony and Natasha stood in front of one of his many computers in the sitting room. The sun shone cruelly through the glass wall, warming the room considerably.

“Where do you think he went?”

“I have a few ideas.” Natasha said, picking up a magazine from a stack of playboys on the desk and fanned herself with it. 

“I never thought you would look so sexy fanning yourself with another attractive woman. That’s a good look on your Romanoff.” Tony grinned, but his smile evaporated into a look of fear as Natasha glared at him.

“Kidding, kidding!”

“He was probably scared and angry, so he would have gone someplace familiar. Did he bring his phone with him?” She plowed on as though he hadn’t spoken a word.   
Tony scoffed, “No, I checked. The old geezer hates bringing it places, doesn't think it’s important.”  
Natasha nodded then clicked on a few places in Google Maps. “I’m going to check his apartment, and possibly Peggy Carter’s nursing home.”

“Your call, Widow.”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Natasha rolled down the top of one of Tony’s smaller cars, a Porche, and headed down the street. Taxi’s buzzed past her as she turned into an alley. The brick houses stood in rows, casting daunting shadows overhead. She pulled around back of his apartment and got out quietly, leaving the top down. Her heels clicked obtrusively up the flight of stairs to Steve’s apartment. She knocked softly on the door.

“Steve.” She hummed.

Steve, always too damn polite to tell anyone to go away, opened the door ajar and proceeded back into his living room.

His apartment was comfortably small. He had flat out refused to live in the Avengers tower when Tony had offered but had allowed Stark to pay the rent for his apartment, which Tony had begrudgingly agreed to. The only ones actually living in the tower were Natasha, Bruce, Tony and Clint. Natasha used to stay in SHIELD designated quarters and had considered getting an apartment, but the not having to pay for rent deal was too enticing. This way, she could keep a better eye on Bruce and Tony (the two most versatile men of the group). But now, she wished Steve lived in the tower. 

Natasha looked around at the living room and her eyes fell on Steve. He had collapsed back onto the couch, clutching his stomach with a grimace. It appeared as though getting up to get the door had caused him great effort. He lay panting on the couch, heaving in breaths to his broken lungs.

He looked pitiful.

Natasha gazed at Steve, keeping her posture and face neutral.

“Tony send you?” Steve grunted.

“Yes and no. I’m not going to retrieve you like Stark wanted. I just wanted to be sure you were okay. Then you can come back with me or not.”

“I’m fine.”

Natasha snorted, “If I believed everyone in the team who told me ‘they were fine’,I’d be just as stupid as all of you are. You’re not fine, Steve. How could you be?”

Steve chuckled darkly, “What gave me away?”

“Let me look at that.” She offered, nodding her head to the still-bleeding stomach wound Steve was clutching.

Steve looked ready to argue but Natasha supposed he didn’t have the fight in him. He removed his hand from the blood-soaked shirt and Natasha took that as an invitation. She strode to his bathroom and grabbed a few things, finding a fresh bandage in the drawer along with rubbing alcohol, a pack of sutures she found in a first-aid kit, and a cloth. She whetted the cloth and returned to Steve’s side.

“Take the shirt off.” She ordered and he did so, wincing.

She spared a glance down at his marred flesh, repressing a shudder. None of his wounds seemed to be healing. The scars still looked days old. Natasha found the source of the bleeding from the knife wound and pulled the broken stitches from his skin. Steve moaned in pain.

Natasha made quick work of it, packing the wound, staunching the bleeding, and suturing it neatly.

She stalked from the living room, heading to Steve’s bedroom. It was small and a few drawings hung here and there, most depicted Bucky and a few held the image of Peggy Carter. She fished out a clean shirt from a dresser and headed back to the sofa.

Steve nodded his thanks as she threw him a clean shirt. He pulled it on and Natasha took the chair across from him without permission. His eyelids fluttered from either fatigue or pain, she couldn’t tell.

“It’s not your fault.” She stated coolly.

“Stark told you.” He replied, shaking his head sadly, his eyes peeking out through his matted blond hair.

“It’s not.”

He heaved a painful sigh and nodded slowly, “Yes it is, Natasha. You don’t understand-“

“I understand perfectly.” She shot back, “You blame yourself for the death of the man you loved because you happened to be involved in the events surrounding his death. And because it isn’t enough to blame the person who is really at fault, you blame yourself. Because you lived and he didn’t? You feel guilty?”

“Please don’t…”

“I’m spot on, aren’t I?”

Steve nodded slowly. 

She sighed and fell silent, crossing her slender legs. 

“This is not on you. You wanna hear a story?”

“Not really.” He responded dully.

“This isn’t a story to make you pity me, but to make you understand. So shut up and listen-“ She plowed on when he didn’t respond.

“When I was trained in the Red Room in Russia, there were 24 girls per room. We learned how to fight one another and perfect our skills in combat. When I was seven I had a best friend. I don’t even remember her name because our instructor told us names weren’t important.

“We were learning how to shoot a rifle at long range and my instructor took us to the roof and told us not to be late, or she would close the gates on us. My friend was late. They closed the gates on her and she stood in the square underneath us. My instructor handed me the gun and said, ‘shoot her. That will teach the rest of the girls not to be late.’ And I hesitated.

“She hit me and told me to shoot now. I did not need friends or they would make me weak. I didn’t want to be weak. So I shot her. That was my fault.”  
Steve looked stunned. “You were seven?” 

Natasha nodded, “She was too. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, Steve. I hurt a lot of innocent people. I joined SHIELD to redeem myself. But you? You didn’t pull that trigger. Cynbel did. Blame him if you want to blame someone, hell- blame one of us because we couldn’t find you fast enough. Just don’t blame yourself.”  
Natasha stood and Steve, grunting, did the same.

“Thanks Natasha.”

She nodded, a grim smile twitching on her face.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some tea.”

She strode into his cramped kitchen and pulled out the teakettle.

“You’re not a bad person Natasha.” Steve commented, leaning against the counter.

“Neither are you.” She replied. Pushing a curtain of red hair out of her face, she poured water into the kettle and paused, her posture stiff.

“Something’s wrong.”

Natasha pulled Steve down as a bullet whizzed right by his head, hitting the sink behind them. 

A cacophony of sound rented through the peaceful air. Bullets whizzed from all directions, as Natasha pinned Steve to the floor. The bullets stopped as suddenly as they had started. The door came apart at the hinges with a crashing blast.

“Kill him!” Someone yelled.

Natasha pulled Steve up and hissed, “Lets go.”

Four men blocked the door. When they spotted them, they pulled out their guns and fired off a few rounds. They ricocheted off the walls and smashed pictures. One bullet hit Natasha in the shoulder. She let out a cry of pain and pulled the knife from her boot she always kept with her. She turned to Steve and breathed, “Do you trust me?”

Steve nodded, eyes wide. And she pushed him out of the window. He fell backwards, shattering the glass. Not wasting a moment to see if he made it safely down, Natasha rushed forward. She dove behind the couch to avoid more weapons fire. She popped over the couch and did a forward flip towards the first man, throwing her knife. It hit him squarely in the chest and he thudded heavily to the ground, grunting in pain. She kicked the legs out of the next man, knocking his gun out of his hands. She pulled the knife out of the first man and threw it behind her, hitting her target in the face; he had been trying to sneak up behind her. 

The last men aimed his gun at her and she ran at him, kicking him in the chest with her high-heeled shoe. Hissing in pain from the bullet in her shoulder, she pulled the bloody knife from the man's face and slit the last man’s throat. She blew hair out of her face and struggled to her feet, walking over to the only surviving man. His fingers inched toward his lost gun but she kicked it out of reach.

“Who sent you?” She asked, drilling the blade into his shoulder, spinning it in circles. He let out a cry of pain and pleaded, “Please, I’m just following orders!”

“To kill Captain America?”

“He told us the target was a threat. He told us to get rid of him! Please!” He cried out as she pushed the blade further into his skin.

“Who sent you?”

“Please!”

“Tell me.” She growled. She could hear shouts from the hallway one floor down.

“NOW!” She stabbed the man in the shoulder, the blade going all the way through.

“ZOLA!” The man screamed, “Please, it was Arnim Zola! He sent us!”

“Zola’s dead. He blew himself up.” She murmured.

“He’s not. His consciousness lives on! Cynbel found him in the wreckage and transferred him to a flash drive. He wouldn’t let his father’s legacy die so easily, would he?”

Hearing footsteps on the stairs she pulled the knife from his shoulder and slit his throat. Getting up, she sprinted to the window and jumped out of it, hoping to God Steve didn’t move the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I just vamped up the action again. Tell me if you like the direction this is going! I'm already half-way through my work on the next chapter so it should be out soon. 
> 
> Thank you all a million for reading and sticking with this story! 
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it’s breaking. When there are clouds in the sky you’ll get by.”-Nat King Cole

“Steve? Steve? Wake up, we gotta go.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open. He gazed at the blue sky above him, the car had stopped. Steve lifted his head and wheeled around, groaning as pain spiked through his chest.

“Wha-“

“You passed out on the drive over here. I tried to go back to the tower, but Hydra had stormed the place. I think Stark is taking care of it, but I couldn’t risk them seeing you. I’m taking you some place safe.”

Steve took a while to remember where he was and why his back ached like it had cracked in two.

“What about the others, are they okay?” Steve asked, memories flooding back, his apartment, the men, falling out the window and hitting the seat of the car. It only managed to cushion his fall slightly. He vaguely remembered Natasha, crashing down beside him.

“The others weren’t there. Thor was still taking Bruce back. Sam, Clint, and Pepper were out. It was only Tony at the tower when Hydra attacked.”

Steve groaned, “Then we need to go back and help him.”

Natasha glanced at his pale complexion, “Not in your condition.”

“Where are we?“ Steve asked, looking around. They were parked in an abandoned airplane hanger, facing a large garage. The windows were broken in places, an old car sat outside the garage, gathering dust. It looked like an old M20 Pobeda.

“One of Howard Stark’s old airplane hangers.” Natasha grimaced as she rolled the top up. “But we have to ditch the car. Clint is meeting us in ten minutes.”

“Don’t you think they would know about this place?” Steve asked.

“No. The only SHIELD records about this place involved an incident during the SSR, with Howard and…. Agent Carter.”

Steve felt his stomach flip at Peggy’s name but he kept his face calm. “Really? And you don’t think Hydra knows about it?”

“Not enough to think to come here. Steve, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Natasha gritted her teeth as she adjusted herself in the seat. That’s when Steve noticed the bullet wound in her shoulder.

“You’re hurt.” 

“So are you.”

“I mean, you got shot.”

“The bullet went through me, I just need to stop the bleeding.” She moaned, “Now shut up and listen.” She re-told Steve what the Hydra agent had told her.

Steve gaped, open-mouthed at her, “Cynbel is Zola’s son? That’s….”

“Disturbing?” Natasha offered, looking nauseous.

“So Zola didn’t blow himself up when he tried to kill us?”

“I guess not.” Natasha sighed, “He said that Cynbel saved his consciousness on a flash-drive.”

“And what? Zola sent his men to finish me off.”

Natasha nodded, “I guess because Cynbel couldn’t finish it.”

Steve sighed and leaned back in the seat. Blood oozed slowly from the wound in his stomach and he grimaced at the pain.

“Let’s get one of these planes started up, Clint should be here any minute.” Natasha offered.

“Where do we go from here?” Steve asked, getting out of the car slowly.

“Well we can’t go back to the tower, but Clint’s got a farm a ways from here that no one knows about, except Fury and me.”

Steve nodded and helped Natasha out of the car, who grimaced.

Steve pulled the garage door open with his remaining strength and puffed out a breath of astonishment at the sight before him. At least seven planes and a few cars sat before him. Steve gazed around.

“I had forgotten how rich Howard was.”

“Just like his son.” Natasha smirked, “The wipe doesn’t fall far from the ass.”

Steve chuckled and headed toward the nearest plane, a small four passenger.

“Clint may need to bring some new fuel.”

“Don’t worry, I did.”

Steve turned to see Clint entering the garage, whistling low.  
“Man the Starks are loaded.”

He pulled out a can of fuel and got to work with Natasha and Steve’s help, trying out the settings and knobs.  
Natasha spoke quietly into her phone, mumbling terse replies.

“Who was that?” Clint asked after she hung up.

“Hill. I informed her of the situation with Zola. She’s looking into it with Stark.”

“Is Tony okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, he was able to chase off the Hydra goons waiting at the tower, but I have a feeling they’ll be more. He’s gonna meet us at Clint’s place once he makes sure he’s not being followed.”

“What about Thor and Banner?”

“They may meet us, but I haven’t been able to contact them. Hill’s on it.”

Steve nodded just as the engine roared to life behind him. The plane’s propellers began slicing through the air and billowing white smoke out of its end.  
“Is it okay to fly?” Steve asked, eying the plane wearily.

“Hell if I know. I’m great at boats, not planes.” Clint scoffed. 

“Okay- c’mon.” Natasha said. Climbing aboard and strapping herself in. She put on a set of old headphones and waited for the others to climb in. Clint got in front with her and Steve climbed in the cramped back.

Natasha took off and the plane shuttered. Steve felt the dull ache all over his body, his back throbbing from the fall. Now that the adrenaline had left him he felt exhausted. He shifted and moaned quietly so the spies wouldn’t hear.

His eyelids fluttered but he forced himself to sit up.

“I’m sorry about this-“ He began.

Clint snorted, “For what? It’s not like it’s your fault Cap.”

Steve sighed and remarked, “It is.” Under his breath. He saw Natasha stiffen at Steve’s words. Clint looked around at him, “What?”

Steve shook his head, “Never mind.”

“Did you just say it’s your fault?”

“Well…” Steve felt his face grow hot, “It is.”

“What? Being good at your job? Doing the right thing?”  
Steve shook his head, “For… all of this. For putting you two in danger. For Bucky...”

He felt his throat close and averted his eyes as they stung. He did not want to see a look of shock, pity, or anger on Clint’s face like Tony’s. Tony had looked so angry with him. Steve understood. It was his fault, Stark had a right to be angry.

“Are you serious? You didn’t kill Bucky.” 

“I as good as.” Steve shot back. 

“You know, for a tactical genius, you can be pretty stupid sometimes.”

“Clint.” Natasha growled at him.

Steve sighed and looked away his stomach twisting itself into ropes as he thought about Bucky. If only he hadn’t pushed Steve out of the way. Steve could have taken the bullet, and healed. Bucky didn’t have to die if he had just tried harder to save him. Paid more attention.

“Cynbel was right. It’s my fault.”

“You’re going to listen to that lunatic over any of us? The ones who actually give a shit about what happens to you and didn’t torture you for three weeks?” Clint accused, breathing heavily.

“Three weeks…” Steve breathed. It had felt like years in that room. Tied to the ceiling, his limbs screaming in protest. Bucky broken and dying against the wall.  
Steve suppressed a shudder and pushed the memories away, keeping them locked away.

“C’mon Steve. Don’t you trust us?”

“Of course I do! I just know the facts and the fact is-“

“That you didn’t kill Bucky Barnes. You are in no way responsible for his death.”  
Steve didn’t reply.

“Get some rest Steve. You look dead on your feet.” Natasha murmured after a moment.

“You’re the one who got shot.” Steve noted.

Natasha shrugged, regretting it as pain spiked through her.

Soon enough, exhaustion took over Steve and he drifted off to sleep.

Natasha glanced in the back, making sure Steve was asleep before addressing Clint.

“Did you warn Laura and the kids that we’re coming?”

“Yeah. She took the kids away for a few weeks, up with her mom in Maine.”

Natasha nodded in approval and sighed heavily.

“He just can’t catch a break, can he?” Clint murmured after a moment.

Natasha sighed and looked back at Steve.

“Want me to look at that?” He nodded to her shoulder.

“When we get there.”

Clint sighed, “Never a dull moment when you’re an avenger.”

*-*-*-*-*

Steve was jolted awake as the plane landed on soft grass. He shook the sleep from his body and the pain lapsed with it. 

He sucked in a breath as Clint turned round, “Wake up, sleepy-head. We’re here.”

Steve got up and exited the plane.

The farm was small and quiet. A little house rested beside a large open field.

“This is all yours?” Steve asked Clint.

“Yeah. I grew up here.”

Steve shook his head in amazement, chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Clint asked defensively.

“Nothing, it’s just that… growing up in the city, I can’t imagine living somewhere so isolated.”

“It has it’s perks.” Clint responded, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket and letting them in, “Like no bad guys can find this place.”

Steve nodded and entered the house. It was small and quaint. Steve sighed and Clint steered him toward the couch, forcing him to sit.

“No offense, but you look terrible. Sit down and rest.”

Too tired to argue, Steve sat in silence while Clint helped Natasha patch up her shoulder. He watched them talk in low voices as his vision blurred slightly. His mind wandered back to his own time. He closed his eyes and if he tried hard enough, he could feel Bucky sitting next to him, a hand on his leg.

“It’s not your fault.” Bucky whispered.

Steve turned and looked him in the eye, “If I had just-“

Bucky put up a hand to stop him, “How could we ‘ave known that they were waiting for us at the airport?”

“I should have been paying attention.” Steve replied, his voice gruff in an effort to keep it even.

“I was keeping you a bit preoccupied with the kissin' and all.”

Steve allowed a grin to slide across before wiping it clean again, “Buck- we should have guessed that Hydra wouldn’t just let us go like that.”

“No, you’re right. But they jumped us, it was 20 against 2. If anything, I should have done more to get us outta there.”

Steve shook his head, “It’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either.” Bucky said, regarding him with that stern look he got when Steve was being stupid.

“Oh Buck. It’s so hard. I didn’t think losing you again could be worse than the first time.”

“But you didn’t just lose me. You’d lost everything. You woke up in an alternate world, everything you knew had vanished. Everyone you loved, gone. Even your own hometown had changed. It felt like betrayal. I felt the same way when I started getting my memories back.”

Bucky’s eyes looked sad as he regarded Steve. “I just count myself lucky that I got to see you again and remember who you are. Because if anything Steve, you can’t lose who ya are, in here.” Bucky pointed at his chest, his finger hovering inches from him.

“Bucky-“ Steve blinked and he was gone. Vanished like smoke.

Natasha pulled a blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over Steve’s sleeping form.

“You don’t think we should move him to a bed.” Clint asked.

“Better not wake him.” Natasha replied, “He’s barely slept.

“Whatever you say, mom.” Clint snickered, walking away.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Day passed quickly into night, and Steve awoke a few hours after their arrival to the smells of food wafting from the kitchen.

He sat up and moaned, glancing down at his shirt, bloodstained across the stomach. He lifted his shirt and felt the knife wound, but the blood had dried.

He heard hushed voices from the dining room.

“Yeah, he actually thinks it’s his fault.”

“That rat, Cynbel told him it was.” Tony's voice wafted toward him.

“How are we going to convince him otherwise?”

“He’ll have to come to the idea on his own.”

“But he’s not healing. Most of the smaller cuts should be gone by now, it’s been almost 3 weeks.”

Steve coughed loudly and stood. Three faces turned to look at him.

“Stark.” Steve nodded to Tony, “Everything okay at the tower?”

“Cap. Hey, yeah it’s all good there. JARVIS was able to lock them out before they got into any of the major systems. Cap, hey listen, about before-”

“It’s fine.” Steve interrupted, “I understand.”

Confusion crossed Tony’s face.

“You understand what?”

“I understand why you were angry with me, you have every right to be.”

“Angry-? What, no, I wasn’t angry- I just didn’t know you felt-“

“Tony. It’s fine. Just drop it, okay?” Steve clipped back at him, walking out of the house onto the porch.

The air was crisp with a promise of snow. Steve sighed and ignored the chill running through his body. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with the cold or the remnants of the dream. He pushed the image of Bucky’s face out of his mind and tried to distract himself. He couldn’t, however keep his hands from shaking. He forced them into his pockets in an attempt to stop the trembling.

His thoughts were chaos, running themselves around his head. He tried to shut it all down, focus on his breathing just like his SHIELD therapist had told him. They had assigned him one when he woke from the ice, thinking it would help him deal with the culture shock. But his therapist had deemed him fine after two weeks. And he was fine… for the most part. When he had to fight, he would settle into his old role and everything else would be wiped away. He could focus on the cause and that was it. But after the fight was over…

What would his therapist think if he saw him now. Hallucinations, he wasn’t healing, he couldn’t shake the image of his past life, couldn’t stop waking up in the middle of the night thinking he had heard bombs going off- instinctively ducking for cover. They used to call it shell-shock, and he’d seen fellas get it in the war. Muttering things under their breath, shaking out of their skin. He never thought he’d become one of them.  
He puffed out his breath and the air swirled around him, looking like cigarette smoke. Bucky used to smoke…  
Steve closed his eyes and forced his mind another direction, steering it away from dangerous territory.

“Steve-“

Steve started, spinning round.

Natasha leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest. “Dinner’s ready, if you want to stop standing in the cold.”  
Steve nodded distractedly, following her back inside. The kitchen was quiet, which Steve found a surprise since Tony Stark was in there. Then he realized they must have stopped talking as he walked in because both Tony and Clint fell silent and looked in opposite directions.

“Capsicle, pull up a chair. De-thaw yourself.”

Steve gave him a stony look but accepted the chair Tony was gesturing to next to him.

“Nat made dinner. Apparently among her many talents is killing and cooking. She’s a killer cook.” Tony remarked, handing Steve the mashed potatoes. 

They ate in silence, Tony throwing in a few antidotes here and there. Steve picked at his food, his stomach not feeling up to the task. He offered to help with the dishes and soon Clint lit a fire in the fireplace and they sat in the living room. Snow began to drift down outside and Steve sat, listening to Natasha and Clint bicker, his eyes unfocused.

He felt a jab in the ribs and looked round to see Tony glance at him.

“Hey, Cap. Can I talk to you?”

Steve shrugged, standing and walking to the hallway with Tony.

“What is it Stark?”

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

Steve lifted an eyebrow at him.

“I just didn’t know you felt that way. I was mad at that jackass for making you believe that shit.”

Steve widened his eyes at Tony. There was no hint of a joke in his voice. He had rarely seen Tony look this angry, even during battles.

“Alright Tony. But he didn’t make me believe anything. He told me the truth.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Tony replied, “He manipulated you. He tortured you. And I’ll I’ve heard you talk about is how it’s your fault.”  
Steve sighed, his hands trembling again.

“I get it man, I do. I was kept in a cave for three months, and there is stuff that I still won’t talk about. It’s hard. But Steve, you need to forget what that rat told you.”

“How am I supposed to?” Steve spat, “I had my chance to look after Bucky this time and I fucked it up. He died on my watch again. Do you know a lot of people who have died twice? Everyone I know is dead or has no clue who I am! How am I supposed to just forget that?”

Tony blinked at Steve. He rarely cussed, rarely even said ‘damn’.

“Steve I didn’t mean- Christ, I’m bad at this stuff. I’m just saying, you need to let yourself off the hook. It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve huffed and shook his head, “Bucky’s dead, Tony. You weren’t there. I could have saved him and I didn’t.” Steve felt a lump gathering in the back of his throat and turned away from Tony, heading back to the living room. Natasha and Clint had fallen silent, and turned to him when he stomped in.

“Where would you like me to sleep?” He asked, attempting to keep a polite air about him.

“Any of the bedrooms are fine.” Clint replied.

“Thanks. Goodnight.” 

He left the room as quickly as his exhausted body would allow, climbing the stairs and choosing the smallest bedroom. He didn’t have anything to wear since all of his clothes were back at his apartment. He stripped to his boxers despite the cold and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to will his trembling hands to calm. He took a ragged breath and puffed it out. 

He needed to get a handle on his emotions. He couldn’t keep blowing up at his teammates. He knew Tony meant no harm, but his prying questions bothered him. No one understood that everything had changed for him. Since he had awoken, the world had changed but he hadn’t. He was a man out of his time and every day was a constant reminder of that, by the people, the places, the technology. When he had gotten Bucky back, the world seemed to have righted itself. Things were manageable, because he had someone to share it with, someone who had lived with him, grown up with him, been to war with him, and someone who had loved him. 

He closed his eyes and remembered that night in the hotel, when he could feel Bucky, surround himself in him. A choked sob escaped his lips and he clamped down on his emotions. He collapsed into the bed and pulled the covers tight over himself. Letting the sobs rack his body but making no sound.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The next few days passed quickly. Bruce joined them on the second day, shaking snow off his jacket and telling them Thor went back to Asguard.

“He hates the cold.”

“Couldn’t argue with that.” Steve mumbled. He sat in a chair by the fire, gazing into the crackling flames.

“What’s that Cap? Don’t like being in the cold after being an ice cube for 70 years? Shocker.” Tony commented, sipping his coffee.

Tony and Steve had been cordial to one another since their last row. But Steve knew it wouldn’t last long. They always managed to get on one anothers nerves.

“It isn’t just that.” Steve supplied, “But the winters in New York were brutal. There was always a possibility of not making it through the winter as a kid. I was always sick with something or another.”

“Did you not ever see a doctor?” Bruce asked, shrugging off his coat.

Steve chuckled, “Didn’t really have the money. Growing up in the great depression does that to a family. I did go to the hospital once when I had pneumonia the first time, cause we didn’t know what it was. I remember ‘ma was so worried, her and Bucky…” He stopped short and saw them all visibly stiffen.

Steve cleared his throat and balled his shaking hands into fists. “Anyway, not the best time for a fella who was as sick as I was.”

Bruce nodded, glancing around the sitting room.

“Nice place you’ve got here, Clint.”

Clint exited the kitchen, holding a plate of sandwiches, followed by Natasha. “Thanks. It’s a bit small, but good size for the family.”

Natasha shot him a look and he cleared his throat, “I mean, well, my old family. Cause I grew up here and all… ” He mumbled, passing the plate around.  
Tony grabbed a sandwich hungrily, passing the plate to Steve. He reluctantly took one, not feeling remotely hungry.

“So Barton, you have any embarrassing childhood stories you wish to divulge to us? C’mon Clint, share with the group, this is a safe space.”

Clint looked like he had swallowed a lemon. He pursed his lips and shook his head, “Nothing to report. Didn’t live here long.”

“Really? I thought you grew up here?” Steve asked.

“I did, until my parents died. Then my brother and I went to the orphanage and then joined the circus.” Clint still had that sour look about him Steve rarely saw on his face. It did not look like anything pleasant had happened here. He stalked off, taking the now empty plate back to the kitchen. Steve forced down some of the sandwich but his stomach still clenched in pain.

“You all know you don’t have to stay here with me. I can manage on my own.” Steve replied after a moment of silence.

“An excuse for some time off? I wouldn’t miss it. Plus Pepper runs my company, so it’s not like I’m missing anything.” Tony remarked.

“C’mon Steve, I’d much rather be here than downtown. It gets too crowded in the tower.” Bruce said, “Plus, it’s a much smaller chance of the big guy showing up.”

“I dunno, Steve did a pretty good job setting him off last time.” Tony remarked. He meant it as a joke but no one around him took it as such.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to blow up like that.” Bruce said, sitting on the sofa opposite Steve and Tony. Steve shook his head, “I would have been angry if I was you. Not your fault.”

“Not yours either.” Bruce commented gently, before turning to Natasha and striking up a conversation with her.

Steve sighed and attempted to distract his brain once more, skirting around dangerous territory.

“Steve? Steve?”

Steve snapped out of his revere to see the three of them looking at him.

“Wha-“

“Are you hungry?” Natasha asked, “You barely ate your sandwich.”

“Nah, I’m alright.”

Natasha gave him a ‘yeah-right’ look and opened her mouth to respond, but her phone rang shrilly in her pocket and she reached to answer it, leaving the room.  
“You should eat more, Steve. Your body isn’t back to it’s physical peak yet and your metabolism requires a lot more food than most people.” Bruce said, his tone calm, but nearly chastising.

Steve sighed, “I’m alright Bruce, thanks. Not that hungry.”

Tony squinted disbelievingly at him as Natasha reentered the room.

“So apparently Fury is dropping in for a surprise visit.” Natasha said, looking sour, “Hill just warned me.”

“You know, I was under the impression that Hill worked for me now.” Tony gibed, “But she’s still Fury’s right-hand man, or extra eye, or whatever you wanna call her.”

“Damn right she is.” A voice said from the door. They all turned round to see Nick Fury striding through the front door. He wore blue jeans and a black coat, looking very out of place in his dark sunglasses and casual attire.

Years of military training had Steve standing at attention before he could stop himself.

Tony snorted, “Unclench their, Captain Tightpants, he’s not your boss anymore.”

“Hello to you too Stark.” Fury replied coldly, then turning to Steve he said, “I’ve come here to get your official statement, now that you're walking and talking.”

The others stood at this, jumping to Steve’s side.

“Statement? What for? I thought there wasn’t SHIELD anymore.” Bruce replied.

“We’re rebuilding. And we are still equipped to deal with official threats, like Armin Zola, or any kind of Hydra for that matter.”

“But you’re barely a company anymore, let alone someone who can handle the bad guys.” Tony sneered.

“We’re rebuilding faster than you would think, Stark. And we need everything Captain Rogers can give us on his capture.” Fury replied coldly.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, “May I talk to you for a minute, alone?”

Sheer willpower alone got Natasha and Fury talking in the barn outside of Clint’s house.

“Are you kidding me? You can’t just come here and demand Steve relive the torture he went through just so you can get information. He’s a wreck! You have to give him breathing room.”

“What I need from him now is information. We need to know the nature of the crime and just how serious these men are. If we can find any connection to Zola from what Steve tells us, we can find him faster- put this behind us.”

“With a total disregard to Steve’s emotional state?”

Fury glared at her through his sunglasses, his lips a thin line, “You don’t understand the gravity of the situation, Romanoff.”

“I understand perfectly.” Natasha hissed, pulling back her shirt to reveal the bullet wound on her shoulder.

“Then you know I need to question him.”

“And you know I won’t let you.”

“Are you undermining me, Agent?”

“I don’t work for you anymore, Nick. I’m an Avenger first, and my duty is to my teammates.” Her eyes were bright with passion and her breathing heavy. 

“And I admire your loyalty, but sometimes you have to put the needs of one man aside for the means of a whole group. Captain Rogers will bounce back, he always does.” Fury commented.

“I’m not sure he will. You think Captain America and Steve Rogers are the same, but each functions as a product of the other. Captain America cannot function without Steve Rogers, but Steve Rogers doesn’t believe in Captain America anymore. You break Steve, you lose your Captain.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Fury stated, stomping out of the room, while Natasha watched him leave, furious. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“If you want him to say a word, he’s going to need someone in there with him.” Clint remarked, as Natasha, Tony, and Fury sat around the dining room table. Steve was outside with Bruce collecting firewood.

“Agreed.” Tony said, “A support system. Send me in, I’m a poster child for good support.”

Natasha snorted, “Over my dead body. I’ll stay with him.”

Fury shook his head, “You’re too opinionated, Romanoff. I don’t want anyone interfering during the questioning.”

Natasha looked murderous but Clint stopped her retort with a snap of his fingers, “I got it. Call Sam.”

They all nodded in general agreement and Natasha got in contact with him in DC. He would catch the next flight out to Iowa and be there in a day.

“So, while we wait, anyone up for a game of Monopoly. I’m a genius at this game. It’s how ol’ dad taught me how to run an entire weapons company from scratch.” Tony replied, grinning. 

The door flew open and Bruce stepped inside, shouldering Steve, who looked as pale as a sheet.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, helping Steve sit on the couch closest to the fire, Clint stoking it to ignite the dying embers.

“We were collecting firewood and he bent double, looking nauseous. He’s running a fever.”

“I thought super-soldiers couldn’t get a fever.” Clint remarked.

“His immune system is vulnerable right now, I’m not too surprised. I think that serum he was given is still working it’s way through his system.”

Steve shuttered and closed his eyes, his hands shaking.

“Lay down, I’ll get you some tea.” Natasha ordered Steve, walking to the kitchen while Bruce asked Clint for a first-aid kit. Once Bruce had what he needed, he look Steve’s temperature, over his insisting, through chattering teeth, that he was fine.

“Shut up and let us take care of you.” Tony replied.

Steve looked round at all of them and a smile crept along his face.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” Clint asked him.

“Family.” Steve replied sleepily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have a few chapters left. A million thank yous to everyone who has stuck with this story. It's nearing it's close.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.”  
> ― Tupac Shakur

Steve passed out on the couch and Bruce covered him with a throw.

The rest of them turned in soon after. Clint and Tony were sharing a room while Fury and Bruce took the room Steve was sleeping in. Natasha got the large guest bedroom.

Steve slept through the whole night, nightmares tossed him about the couch, but he never awoke.

The next morning, a sharp knock on the door startled Steve awake. Clint came down the stairs as Steve got up slowly, his muscles aching with fatigue, his back vaguely sore.

“Sit down, Steve. I’ll get it.” Steve sank back onto the couch and Clint, fully dressed, peered through the peephole and pulled open the door.

Sam Wilson stood at the door, covered in snow, a broad grin on his face.

“Hey Hawkeye.” Sam greeted him. 

“Hey.”

Steve stood up to shake Sam’s hand, “Sam. You here to hold my hand while Fury interrogates me?”

“That’s the plan. And give him a good right hook if he’s being rude.”

“Fury? Rude? I wouldn’t dream it.” Clint scoffed, heading to the kitchen, yawning.

Natasha came through the front door, her hair peppered in white snow.

“Where have you been?” Clint peered around at her. 

“On the lookout. I think they may have followed Sam. Looks like they’ve been keeping tabs on you too.” She added to Sam.

“You mean our cover’s blown?” Steve asked.

“Not necessarily. But I’m going to go move the plane, throw them off the trail.”

“I’ll come with.” Clint replied, looking eager to get out of the house.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow at him and he shrugged, “Just in case.”

Steve watched them leave with an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Footsteps tramped down the stairs and Bruce peered around.

“Before Fury and you talk, I want to take a look at your wounds. Is that alright?”

Steve shrugged and pulled off his shirt. Bruce picked up the abandoned first-aid kit from the night before and checked on his cuts. He nodded approvingly, “These look at lot better.” The cuts had nearly healed and the bruising had lightened considerably. The knife wound still looked nasty. Bruce changed his dressing and handed his shirt back to him.

“Looks like the last of that stuff they gave you is out of your system and the serum is working it’s magic on you.”

Steve sighed and nodded, “Thanks Bruce.”

Fury came down the stairs, followed by Stark, with sleep-mussed hair.

“Wilson.” Fury inclined his head at Sam.

Steve heaved a sigh and said, “Let’s get this over with then.”

They moved toward the living room.

“Stark. I’m going to have to ask you and Banner to leave during our conversation.” Fury said.

“I was actually gonna go out to get some real food anyway, I’m tired of this home cooked crap.” Tony winked at them before departing.

Fury rolled his eye and they waited in silence while Bruce mumbled something about going with Tony before he slammed the door shut. They were thrown into silence.

The three of them stared at one another for a moment before Fury opened his mouth to speak, but Sam interrupted.

“Some ground rules.”

Fury looked at him, eye narrowing. Steve thought it must have taken all of Fury’s patience not to interrupt.

“I’ve worked with Vets out of the war for a while, and a bunch of them had been tortured too. So we have to lay down some rules before we start.” Sam explained.  
Fury begrudgingly nodded and Steve stiffened slightly.

“One” He held up his pointer finger, “Steve can stop the questioning at any time. Two. He can take any breaks he needs. Three. No interrupting when Steve is retelling us what happened. It’s easier to get it out in one go.”

Sam glanced at Steve who felt a rush of gratitude toward him. He inclined his head and looked back to Fury.

“Alright, Captain. Start from the beginning.”

Steve took a shuttering breath and began.

“After we landed in New York, we took a cab from the airport, we were jumped. The cab driver hit me with something. It must have been that serum because I felt its effects right away. Bucky… he started fighting the men off, but there must have been twenty of them, including the driver. I could barely move at this point, but I was still able to knock out the driver. Bucky killed two of them but then Cynbel showed up and pointed the gun at my head. I could already feel myself passing out and I lost consciousness all together.

“I woke up in the place where they gave me the serum, in Brooklyn… neither Bucky or I had our phones on us cause, well-“

“Cause you’re both from the dark ages.” Sam said, his tone light but his face tight with worry.

Steve huffed out a short laugh and balled his hands into fists. He retold them every part of Cynbel’s speech he could remember, telling them about how the Serum worked. How it slowly drained him of water and left him immobile, but he depended on it to live. When it came to talk about Cynbel torturing Bucky, Steve halted mid-sentence. He took a breath and Sam announced,

“Break time, c’mon Steve.”

Sam lead him to the kitchen, noticing Steve’s stiff posture.

“Coffee?”

He nodded firmly and Sam brewed a cup. Steve tipped the scalding liquid down his throat, letting the caffeine course through him, though it had no effect.

“If only I could have a drink.” Steve sniffed after a moment.

Sam hugged his cup of coffee and nodded, “Yeah. But hey, it’ll feel better to get it off your chest. You ready to go back in there?”

Steve nodded stiffly. They took their coffee back to the living room and Sam handed Fury a cup, who nodded his thanks.

“So they took you to the observation room?” Fury began for him, his piercing eye fixed on Steve’s face.

He nodded and continued his story. Steve spoke quickly, and no one interrupted. He spoke nonchalantly of his own torture, but it was impossible to swallow when he mentioned Bucky, the long nights where the only thing to distract them from the pain was each other.

When he got to Bucky’s death, he stopped speaking completely and stared at the opposite wall.

“Cynbel shot him?” Sam asked, his tone gentle, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Steve nodded, a tear trailing down his cheek, “And he pushed me out of the way, the idiot.” Steve choked out. “I could have healed. He didn’t need to die.” Another tear followed the first.

He blinked away his tears and Sam saw his posture stiffen, as his eyes fixated on a point neither of them could see. Steve’s tone was straightforward as he spoke. He told them how Cynbel said to him it was his fault, over and over until Steve believed, knew, he was right.

“I knew I was dead, but then the avengers and Sam found me, and I shot Cynbel in the head.” A cruel smile played on his lips and he looked deranged. “That’s how it happened.” Steve stood abruptly and excused himself from the living room, walking quickly. Sam paused a moment before following. Steve made it to the bathroom before he threw up. The entire contents of his stomach, emptied until he was retching.

He shuddered and stood, flushing and splashing cold water onto his face, looking into his gaunt reflection, unfeeling, empty.

“Hey man.” Sam’s timid voice said from the doorway. Steve wiped his mouth on a towel and glanced around. He nodded once and opened his mouth but Sam cut him off, “If that’s an apology comin’ out of your mouth, I don’t wanna hear it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Steve paused then closed his mouth, nodding.

Sam grabbed his shoulders, “You’re not alone in this. There are so many people here who care about you.” Sam reassured him, “You don’t have to be strong for anyone, man. No one expects that of you.”

“But I’m their leader-“ Steve began.

“Who gives a damn about that? You just lost the love of your life, you have a right to be upset, a right to be angry. Just don’t turn that in on yourself, man. I’ve seen many people ruined by what’s inside of them. Don’t let this ruin you.”

Tears streamed down Steve’s cheeks and once the tears started coming, they didn’t stop. Steve sounded like a wounded animal as Sam pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight.

“You’re not alone. We’re here.”

Steve nodded.

“You don’t need to shoulder the burden alone, cap.”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice yelled from the bottom of the stairs, Steve and Sam broke apart and peered around the door, “We’ve got company.” She said, throwing Steve his shield, “Time to go to work. You up for it?”

Steve paused, biting his bottom lip. When he thought about it, he realized that fighting for the things and the people he cared for, was what he did best. He could mope and blame himself all day long, but it wouldn’t help him heal, and it certainly wouldn’t help him move on. The fight kept him going. It may not be sane or healthy, but he had thrown away the idea of a normal, healthy life when he turned that plane into the ice.  
When he fought, he fought for everything in his life. The War shaped him and the Avengers gave him purpose. He had people all around him who could fight along-side him. Sam was right, he wasn’t alone. 

It would take time to shake the bad feelings from his skin and move on. But what horrible things didn’t? He may have lost his past, and Bucky, but he didn’t lose the fight. Not yet. 

 

Steve nodded, his face set. It was time to do what he did best and fight for the people he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's just the epilogue after this!! It's almost there! I thought I'd post the next chapter pretty quickly after chapter 13 cause you deserve it. THANK YOU ALL FOR ALL THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS. YOU HAVE MADE MY LIFE SO MUCH BETTER!!


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching -- they are your family. ”  
> ― Jim Butcher

Looking back, Steve could barely remember those next few hours. Hydra agents, with the coordinates from Adrim Zola, were approaching Clint’s farm when Natasha and Clint found them. Steve, Sam, Fury, and Tony had quickly joined the fight.

“How many of them are there?” Sam asked, grabbing his wing pack.

“Around 60.” Natasha informed them, “Where’s Tony?”

“Getting on his suit.” Bruce answered.

“Probably not a code green, Banner. I suggest you wait here, stay on the comms.” Steve replied, throwing him a sympathetic look.

“Just keep me updated.” Bruce nodded.

“Apparently they didn’t know that almost all of the avengers were here.” Clint scoffed, picking up his bow.

Steve sighed and grabbed his shield. 

Bruce touched Steve’s arm, “How are you feeling? You could stay back with me and take it easy, your wounds only just started healing.” 

Steve shook his head, “I feel a lot better Bruce.” He half-lied. His back still ached and the knife wound throbbed, but he pushed those feelings away. 

“No one would blame you for benching this one.” Sam added, concern in his eyes.

“Honestly, I feel alright enough to fight.” 

Sam paused, squinting suspiciously, but a metallic creaking sound and Iron Man glinted red and gold. 

“Come on, gramps.” Tony said to Steve. 

The six of them headed outside. The air was frigid although the snow had stopped. They spotted a group in the distance marching toward them, the cold wind kicking up powdery snow from the ground.

Natasha turned to Fury.

“You happy now? Got all the information you need?” Natasha spat, “And for nothing.”

“He got it off his chest.” Fury pointed out.

“Don’t spin this,” Natasha growled, pulling out her guns and checking the clips, “Wilson lead Zola here, we didn’t need Steve to relive that.”

“Hindsight is 20-20, and I guess it’s only 10-10 for me.” Fury remarked, pulling out his gun. Iron Man flew overhead, as they approached an oncoming hoard of Hydra agents, all dressed for battle.

Sam unfurled his wings while Steve shouldered his shield.

“Lets kick some ass.” Clint smirked, pulling an explosive arrow out of his bundle and launching it into the crowd of oncoming Hydra agents. The snow lit up with the explosion and they ran towards one another, bullets whizzing in every direction.

Steve sprinted forward, past Sam who lifted into the air and Fury, firing into the crowd. He pulled out his shield and smashed into the nearest agent, knocking him backward. The pain had dulled, the adrenaline kicking in. 

“Stark and Sam, you’re air coverage, look out for anything we miss on the ground.” Steve said into the comms, “Fury doesn’t have a comm. does he?”

“No.” Natasha replied.

“Good. We can gossip about him. So who’s he crushing on? Hill? I can see them getting together. Making some sort of power-house couple.”

“Stark.” Steve growled, knocking a hydra agent off his feet.

“What, I’m just making conversation.”

“Hey- does anyone else notice that they’re all going for Steve?” Clint asked, hitting a man square in the chest with an arrow.

“Yeah, well they kind of hate his guts, so…” Tony remarked.

“Keep them off his back, super-solider or not, he can’t fight 20 men at once.” Sam cautioned.

“I’m on it.” Stark flew over their heads, “Watch out Spangles.”

Steve ducked behind his shield just as Iron Man fired off a few missiles into the oncoming crowd. They fell down to the ground, most dead, the others left moaning.

“Thanks.” Steve breathed.

The hydra agents had thinned considerably as the Avengers picked them off. Natasha fought three at once, darting around them at lightning speed. Clint was running out of arrows. Fury fired off shots, hitting his targets with sharp accuracy.

Sam and Tony flew overhead, knocking agents off their feet when they tried to sneak up on the fighters below.

Steve fought six at a time, dodging and rolling when needed. He flung his shield into the crowd and four were knocked off their feet, wheezing. He caught a bullet in the leg and grimaced, “We have to find whoever has Zola.”

“Uh… Cap. I think I know which one it is.” Sam’s voice came over the comms. Steve looked around to where Sam was pointing. A man stood at the front of the plane. He wore full body armor, a large helmet, and he was covered with an arsenal of weapons. He loomed over them all, inhumanely large.

“There’s the boss.” Tony replied. “He looks robotic.”

As he said this, the thing extended an arm and an electronic pulse burst out.

“Hello Captain. Good to see you again.” The robotic man said.

“It’s Zola.” Steve breathed.

The remaining hydra agents circled around the robotic man.

“It will be so very nice to kill you.” Zola sneered, as the robot lifted its other arm, raining artillery over their heads.

Steve shielded Natasha and Clint while Iron Man swooped upward. Zola shot another electronic pulse, which hit Tony’s suit square in the chest.

“Shit, I’m going down. Systems are malfunctioning.” Tony cursed.

“Stay where you are Tony, I want as much firepower as we can give him.” Steve ordered.

“I’ve got just what the captain ordered.” Clint replied, over the cacophony of bullets whizzing past them. He pulled out an arrow from his bag. “This baby will short circuit him. Cover me.”

Clint darted out from behind Steve’s shield as Steve, Fury, and Natasha followed him, firing at the oncoming Hydra agents. “Falcon, wanna give me a lift?” Hawkeye grinned.

“Alright.” Falcon swooped in and lifted Clint into the air. He aimed and fired. The arrow zoomed past the Hydra agents and went through the robot’s eye socket.  
“Aw yeah.” Clint whistled, as the robot fizzled and the artillery stopped.

Fury pulled out a bazooka as Tony came trotting up to meet them.

Zola’s robot was spluttering, “You… pay… this… I… never… die.”

“Wanna do the honors?” Fury asked Steve, handing him the bazooka. Steve took it from him and turned to the giant robot, still shutting down.

“So long and good riddance.” Steve launched the bazooka and the tiny missile made impact. The robot exploded, metal flying in every direction.

Tony lifted up his face plate and eyed the bazooka, “Did anyone see where that came from? Did Fury just pull that out of his ass?”

Clint snorted and Natasha smirked. They all headed back inside, as though they hadn’t just taken down one of the biggest threats from Hydra.

“Don’t know about you all, but I’m hungry.” Sam stated.

“And cold.” Clint added.

“’So long and good riddance’? Really Cap? That’s the best ending line you could come up with?” Tony teased, bumping him on the arm.

Steve rolled his eyes, “I don’t spend all my time thinking of good revenge lines like you, Stark.”

Once inside, Clint and Natasha put together some hot chocolate and sandwiches, while Steve and the others settled into the living room, dressing wounds and chatting lightly.

Steve felt his adrenaline slowly ebbing away, replaced by sheer fatigue. He sat and listened to his teammates talk in low voices, bantering and bickering. The slightest smile crept onto his face, a pull of the lips, really. This, right here, was where he was meant to be. He had spent a lot of time living in the past; a past that, to him, only felt like 2 years ago.

But now, being with them all, surrounded by warmth and light, he had hope for the first time since he awoke in the 21st century.

Bucky may be gone, and the hole he left still gaped in his chest, dark and ugly. But Sam was right, he could sit and let it eat away at him or he could honor and remember him in the only way he knew how. He would keep going. Keeping fighting the good fight, do what Erskine envisioned him to be. Not the perfect soldier, but a good one.

As long as he could still fight for what he loved, what he believed in, he would. And no, he probably wouldn’t ever settle down, like he had hoped his future with Bucky would be, and apart of him ached at the thought. But, he was better at this. He knew he would never truly live a normal life, hell, he threw away normal when he stepped into that test chamber all those years ago. But he sure as hell wouldn’t quit fighting just because he had lost someone. The world was full of loss and if Steve could prevent it from happening to others, he would.

Steve gazed around at his team, his family, laughing and joking by him and felt an overwhelming sense of security. He still had a long way to go in his recovery, he knew that. But the road ahead didn’t seem as dark with them by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I am so very grateful to all of you who have stuck with the story 'till the end of the line! It's been 10 months of writing and I couldn't be any happier with the feedback I got. You all made this story possible and I am infinity thankful! 
> 
> I will be working on new Avengers/ Steve-centric fanficions soon! Hopefully, those will have a little less death in the upcoming ones than this one.
> 
> A MILLION THANKS TO ARDEN FOR EDITING MY STORY ALL THE WAY THOUGH, CHAPTER BY CHAPTER! YOU ARE MY LIFE SOURCE! 
> 
> For more stories visit my Fanfiction page https://www.fanfiction.net/~tomparis7


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